Hunting Charlie
by ARoseWithThorns
Summary: On a mission to extract Aaron's pendant, Jason must convince Charlie and Co. that he is now part of the Resistance. The only problem is, there's a new guy in Charlie's life, and Jason doesn't like it; not one bit. Will he stick to the mission and make his father proud, or will he turn coat and follow his own desires? Mature scenes in later chapters. Please read responsibly.
1. Chapter 1

**Editorial Note (11/05/2012): Please bear in mind that this story took place **_**just after**_** the events of "Soul Train": Charlie has not yet been branded (and won't be in this AU), nor has she hardened her heart in the drastic way we've seen her do. I can write her as she is now, but this was written before she transformed into who she is now. I wrote this under the deluge of what they wanted people to think was going to happen in "Sex and Drugs", so please keep that in mind, as well as the rating for this story. I'm perfectly capable of writing a hard edged Charlie and not having her and Jason get together, but that isn't the story I wrote here, so take it as you will and mind the rating for adult situations, thank you.**

**Original A/N: Here's where I'm coming from: Episode 6 has supposedly already happened; long story short, they went to Miles' acquaintance's place for Penicillin, he propositioned Charlie, and she roughly accepted in the spirit of "taking one for the team." Aaron enlightened Miles that she was actually a virgin, and at the last possible minute he came flying in with sword drawn, killing the guy who was about to deflower Charlie and all his henchmen. They made it out of the trafficking house and hightailed with Nora and the penicillin to a resistance safe house near Monroe's Mansion. Charlie's virtue is still intact. I have no idea what's going to happen on the episode in two weeks; but this is where this story begins. Enjoy.**

Tom Neville straightened his jacket before a large, oval mirror in front of the conference room. He darted his eyes up and to the side, where Jason stood perfunctorily ready.

"Remember," Tom muttered beneath his breath, "Not a word about what went down on the train. Let me handle this."

Jason remained tight lipped, staring straight ahead. "Yes, Sir."

There were two bowls of red apples and a fresh pitcher of water on the large, rectangular table in Monroe's candlelit conference room. Various captains and lieutenants from field units sat around the table, waiting expectantly for the news that had drawn them from their homes at such a late hour. Jason had just been about to fall on his bed and collapse for the night after the harrowing events of the last week, when his father banged on the front door to the house he occupied alone, telling him they'd been summoned for an emergency, mandatory meeting at the Mansion.

Jason and Neville took a seat, and without further ado, as if someone had hit a 'mute' button, everyone fell silent as Sebastian Monroe stalked into the room, followed by a composed, attractive older blonde woman in a white blouse. Jason sat up straighter, and realized when Danny Matheson followed close behind her that this must be Charlie's mother. Tom had only just told him on the train ride home that she was still alive, and this was why they needed Danny, to extract information from her. A tightly coiled knot in his stomach wound even tauter, and he sucked back a sour feeling in his throat at what it all meant, how Charlie had no idea her mother was alive. Charlie. _At least she's alive._

Monroe capped a pen and placed a sheath of papers at the head of the table without sitting down. "Gentlemen, I'll be quick and to the point, as I know some of you have just arrived home only to be called back tonight. I thank you for your service. The civilians of the Monroe Republic thank you as well. So," he paused, glancing meaningfully to the woman behind him, "Here's what is happening. Some new information has been brought to light. Some very important, valuable information. There are twelve pendants out there; I don't know exactly where, that have jump drives inserted in them. These jump drives are little square sticks that can be formed together to repower our world."

The room broke out into heated murmurs, and Monroe motioned to the woman. "This is Rachel Matheson. She has drawn twenty-five diagrams of these pendants at my request. You are to each take one. Study it, copy it, _memorize it_, and hunt down these pendants. I want you to take a squadron of ten men each out to your assigned field units, and search every damned person you see. Finding these are the key to claiming our rightful power in this world. With them, we will not just be in charge anymore. We will be _invincible_."

Mrs. Matheson paused behind Jason and Tom, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. What would Charlie say if she knew her mother was alive? He hazarded a look when she handed Tom his drawing.

She was definitely Charlie's mother; they had the same large blue eyes, fierce expression on her face, and the same bone structure. They even scowled the same.

"Um, thank you, ma'am." He said, before he knew what he was doing. Amidst her obvious pent-up turmoil, Mrs. Matheson fixed her expressive clear eyes on him for a moment, before moving along the table to pass out the hand-drawn diagrams with tightly pressed lips.

Tom glared at him, and shook his head slowly. Jason stared down at the paper in front of him instead, feeling winded when he saw what was drawn with clean precision in front of him.

_A clumsy stumble against the desk, a skittering sound, the weird, oval-shaped pendant resting against his hand. _

"_That is one ugly necklace, my man."_

_Aaron, sweat forming on his brow, lips open, trembling. "My… wife gave it to me. Could I have it back, please?"_

"Pull it together, Jason. You alright?" Tom whispered harshly.

Jason cleared his throat. "Y-yes. Fine." He directed his attention to Monroe, who began talking in depth.

An hour later, they were all dismissed for the night, with orders to report to the train station in the morning. He could imagine how well that would go down with his dad telling his mom. Thank God he didn't have anyone… a wife to see him off or worry over him. He'd come home to his empty house and fantasized about what it would be like to have Charlie there, making dinner with her, her helping him with his razor or tie. Better not to even think about it; at least she was alive. He'd made sure of that.

When he and Tom stood to leave the room, Monroe put a hand to Jason's chest, halting him. "Hang on there, young Lieutenant Neville. You too, Tom. I want a word."


	2. Chapter 2

Jason watched Rachel Matheson speak to her son in the corner in heated whispers, casting a glance his way. Danny nodded at him once while speaking, and he watched Danny's lips form the words, _that's him_, and a second later, _saved Charlie._ Rachel faced Jason for a brief second and gave him a fleeting smile, which he did not return out of vigilance.

Monroe looked around at the dispersing militia officers. Casting a glance back at Rachel and Danny, Monroe beckoned Jason. "Why don't we step into my office. Come." He grabbed Rachel's hand, and Danny lurched forward with the sound a clang of metal.

"Let go of my mom, you son of a bitch!" For the first time, Jason could see Danny from a standing angle, and the boy was cuffed with heavy chains at both the wrists and the ankles. His face was peppered with fresh and healing bruises, giving his otherwise handsome features a gruesome, bloated appearance.

"Take it easy, Danny. Your mom is more than used to this. Aren't you, Rache?" Monroe still held Rachel's hand. She didn't seem particularly thrilled about it to say the least, but she did not put up a fight. The fight was in her eyes, the way Jason had seen Charlie look sometimes when containing everything, like a storm was brewing.

Monroe glanced at Jason. "Detain Wonder Boy for a moment, would you, Lieutenant Neville? I want to have a word with your Dad, here. Wait in the corridor."

Jason snapped to attention. "Yes, Sir." He looked at Danny, and clamped a strong hand on the boy's arm. "Come on."

Tom gave Jason a very significant look as he followed Monroe into his office with Rachel, and he instinctively knew what he wanted him to do. He found a chair up against the wall about ten feet away from the office door, and guided Danny down into it.

Danny blew his overgrown bangs out of his eyes and sneered up at Jason with hatred. There was a crusted spot of blood on the side of his mouth. "Oh, what, so you'll save my sister, but feed me to the dogs? Is that how it works around here?"

Jason folded his arms, towering over him. "Pretty much, yeah."

They glared at each other for a moment.

Jason peered over his shoulder and checked his peripheral vision, making sure no one else was around. He leaned down, placing a hand on the wall over Danny's head. He lowered his voice. "Okay, listen up, Matheson. How much did you tell Monroe about what went down on the train?"

Danny seemed to assess him with his clear blue eyes and decide something. "D'you mean about how you saved Charlie from getting shot?"

Jason nodded, guarded.

Danny shifted in his seat. "First you tell me something. Is she okay?"

Jason replayed watching her roll down the hill to a stop in his mind. She had shifted up to her knees in the sparse prairie grass, a defeated look on her face, the last he saw of her. "Yeah, she's okay. I saw her get up," he said quietly. They still seemed to be alone, but he cast furtive glances up and down the hall to be sure.

Danny leaned back in his chair, his face lighting in a grin that looked a lot like Charlie's, teeth and all. "What, so are you like her _boyfriend_?"

Jason scowled and watched the office door a few doors down. "Not exactly. And I doubt she'll want anything to do with me after this. Listen, kid-"

"Danny," the boy sat up straight. "Just call me Danny. I told my mom what you did."

Danny was naïve and like an over-trusting puppy, but Jason couldn't help instantly like him. Charlie had this aura of sunshine about her, similar to his mother. Whenever he was around her he felt better about his direction in life; unlike his father. Danny seemed to have the same disposition. It was a beacon of light in such a messed up world, but it also had the potential to get you killed. Still, Jason's eyes softened. "Okay, Danny… listen, did you tell _Monroe_ anything about the train?"

"I didn't tell Monroe shit." Danny said in that deceptively quiet voice of his.

Jason let out a sigh of relief. "Good. Don't say _anything_, okay? Monroe doesn't know about how I helped your sister on the train. He knows she and Miles were there, but not what went down. I need you to keep it that way so she can stay safe."

"Miles… _uncle _Miles?!" Danny screwed his eyebrows together, and seemed to perk up. "Is he with Charlie now?!"

"Shhh," Jason hissed, hearing his father and Monroe near the office doors. "Yes. Listen, I can't talk, just promise me, if you want Charlie to stay safe."

Danny seemed suddenly resolved, and gave him a fierce nod, just as the office door opened. Immediately Danny collapsed against the wall, looking defeated and exhausted as Monroe and Tom came chuckling out the door. Monroe leaned elegantly against the doorjamb, shrewdly taking in Danny's posture. "What's wrong with you?" he snapped.

Danny put his head in his palms and leaned forward. "Oh, I don't know, you kill my dad, kidnap me, I find out you've been holding my mom for fifteen years, then this son of a bitch hits me. Take your pick."

Monroe stifled a laugh. "Poor, untested, sheltered little Danny Matheson. My heart bleeds for you," he said drily. "Come on in, Jason."

Taking Monroe's upbeat voice and relaxed demeanor as a good sign, Jason gave an affirmative nod to his father as he passed him, and went inside. Rachel was by the window, looking out of a curtain at the starlit sky. Her blonde hair hung loose down her back. She glanced at him as Monroe shut the door.

"You could never really see the stars from the city at night before all the power went out," Rachel murmured, gazing up at them. "The one thing I love is being able to see them shine brilliantly. You can never dim a shining star. I used to read Robert Frost's poem, 'Stars' to Charlie when she was a little girl, but she probably doesn't remem-"

"That's _enough_, Rachel," Monroe brooded, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Rachel leaned against the windowsill, her arms folded as she gazed out at the night sky. She glanced at Jason, and he stood straight at attention in front of Monroe. "Relax, have a seat." Monroe motioned to one of the chairs before the desk.

"Yes, Sir." Jason sat down, looking at the older man. He seemed more weathered than the last time he was here. A seasoned soldier and founder of this huge militia empire, he had actually taken Jason out when he was eighteen for a week and taught him everything there was to know about hunting, fighting, and tracking. In many ways he had been a mentor, but looking at him now Jason thought comparably how alike his father he was, so feverish in his determination, so consumed with the idea of the culmination of power that it seemed to be eating away at him, bit by bit.

As a child, Jason had worshipped his father. Tom had always been that fun, loving dad that came racing in and demanding bear hugs, the giver of tickle tortures and upside-down ankle hangs (much to his mother's dismay), who had taught him how to throw the first punch on the punching bag that would ultimately steer him in the direction for a love of boxing and sculpted body as an adult… and then the darkness had come, and with it, his father had changed.

Jason often thought of what a lion would be like if you took it out of the zoo and put it in the wild; feral, uncaged, dangerous. That was his father. He grew up knowing that what his dad did was necessary for their survival, and so he never questioned it… until now, until he met Charlie and realized that people could still be warm, and kind, and loving despite the darkness surrounding them. Ironically, he thought that was true strength.

"So Jason," Monroe templed his fingers together, "You are home from a very successful operation."

"Yes, Sir."

"Captain Neville tells me you infiltrated the resistance group."

"Yes, Sir."

"He shared your findings with me. So I'm all up to speed on Nora and the Google guy, what was his name?"

"Aaron, Sir."

"Yes, Aaron. And so, that brings us to Charlotte." Monroe glanced gleefully back at Rachel. "Or _Charlie_," he purred suggestively.

Jason swallowed and looked briefly down at his calmly clasped hands. He had learned to mask his anger by appearing calm a long time ago.

"So you were the smooth operator and used her to gain knowledge on the Resistance. I must say I'm impressed."

"Thank you, Sir." Jason responded quietly. He assumed his dad hadn't mentioned him being cuffed to a telephone pole for two whole excruciating days. In the end, he'd actually dug around the pole and power lifted it out of the ground to get free.

"So, did you enjoy it?"

"Bass!" Rachel hissed, a hand over her heart. "Please, come on, you've done enough. I don't need to hear-"

Monroe held up a finger to silence her, smiling like a lion to a gazelle before it gobbles it up. Jason had the feeling that whatever was going on, it wasn't directed towards him, and for once he was grateful as it meant he was off the hook. For now. "Come on, so give us some details. How was she?"

Jason knew he looked as uncomfortable as he felt, and he offered a contrite glance in Rachel's direction. "Sir, she was… intelligent. And resourceful. It was a difficult operation, but I managed to extrapolate what information was necessary." He glanced at Rachel again. "She made an easy target at first-"

Monroe laughed aloud. "Oh, I bet! I mean, look at you, a post-apocalyptic Lethario here."

"But she was young. Innocent. I-" Jason found himself starting to waffle on, and he _never _minced words. "I was a gentleman, sir." He dared one last look at Rachel, and she seemed to accept this, turning once more in silence towards the window.

"Pah, youth and good looks are wasted on the wrong people," Monroe sat back, drumming his bony fingers on the grand mahogany desk. "So, I have another mission for you, Jason. It involves Charlie."

Jason's head lifted, and his whole body shot to attention in his seat, like a dog that just caught the scent of bacon. "Yes, Sir?"

"Well, I was going over what your dad told me, and thanks to you, we now know that the Resistance identify themselves by a symbol of the American flag, either on their bodies or a physical emblem." He opened a drawer. "Sooo," he picked up a card from the top of one drawer, and handed it to Jason. Jason recognized the address hastily scribbled of the town's tattoo artist. "Here's what I want you to do. Wake this guy up, right now, and get a tattoo of the American flag. It's an order. You're going to join the Resistance as a spy for me, track down the lovely and illustrious Charlie, and find me a pendant that either she or someone in her group should have according to Rachel, then report back here. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

Jason tried to quell the nerves flying around inside him. He knew exactly who had that pendant but he had mixed emotions about procuring it. Since coming back yesterday afternoon, he really was having some mental thoughts about where his loyalties lie. Maybe some time alone en route would clear his mind, as it had before. He felt more liberated when not under his father's constant watch, and he was beginning to suspect that Monroe knew it. Monroe was a frigging clairvoyant when it came to his soldiers.

"Well, very good, get on it, then. Leave straight away. Plainclothes. Work fast. You know how to get in touch, if you need to." Monroe stood, and Jason followed his lead, shaking the man's hand over his desk. Rachel still had her back to the room.

"Sir, where should I put the tattoo? Nora had hers on her shoulder."

Monroe smirked. "No place I wanna know about. Good luck, Jason."


	3. Chapter 3

Following Monroe's instructions, Jason got the tattoo over his heart. If it was going to be permanent, it needed to be somewhere that wasn't immediately visible, especially after they had foiled the efforts of the Resistance and life went back to normal. As he walked in civilian clothing, geared up with his rucksack into Noblesville, Jason pondered on what normal actually was.

He had always been a good boy, eager to please his parents and teachers as a child. Amidst everything, that desire to follow orders and make his father proud had stayed with him, morphing into integrity. Lying to Charlie, hurting Charlie, throwing Charlie off that train was harder than anything he'd had to do, because he knew the right thing was to follow his orders and do what his father said. He and Tom were still at odds with one another over that.

Lately, thoughts seemed to surface that he'd never considered before, thoughts that disturbed him. Jason was starting to separate what he was _told_ was right from what he _knew_ in his heart was right from one another, and it was a startling comparison that was messing with his mind.

Tom had goaded him the other night when they returned, telling him he'd gone soft over a pretty girl who was actually a criminal, and that softness equaled weakness; something that would get him killed.

Being Tom Neville's son entailed a certain amount of pride, and demanded he deliver in his work and endeavors. In public, he was always everything a captain's son should be; strong, capable, tall, handsome, and polite. Tom constantly boasted at military gatherings about how accomplished his son was becoming.

In private, though, they hardly spoke to one another.

Tom seemed obsessed with the militia and power and continuing to stay on top of everything; his feverish preoccupation took over any and all conversations Nate tried to have with him. The ugly truth of it was, the last kind words his father had spoken to him were the night of the blackout, fifteen years ago:

"_I love you, Jason. . . but, if we are weak, we're dead."_

He didn't understand it at the time as a child, but he was beginning to realize as a man, that his father wasn't exactly who he had been; he had been changed, and that in bringing his strength and ultimate fortification to fruition, he had in turn, lay his family's love by the wayside. Jason used to hang on his father's every word, but regardless of how much he achieved, Neville didn't consider it enough.

The only one who really seemed to care was his mother. She was always full of love for Jason, and she was starting to become the glue that held their family unit together; her love with Tom, and her love of Jason. With his mother, Jason could let his guard down and be the kind, eager-to-please, pleasant young man he had always been. That was one of the things he loved about coming home, forgetting the atrocities he'd witnessed and being wrapped in his mother's warm, loving embrace, if even for just a fleeting moment.

There were girls in Philadelphia, sure. Only a few were around his age and most were married. As to the ones that weren't, well, he knew women found him attractive, and he knew how to cash in on it when it was beneficial to circumstance, but he didn't particularly like being in any kind of relationship.

"_You can't trust anyone, Jason. You blink, you lower down your guard, you trust anyone for one second, and they will stab you in the back so fast you won't know what hit you. The only person you can trust is your family."_

Jason had had girls around his age practically throw themselves at him. He'd kissed one or two of them, and had considered doing more, but he was always inwardly afraid to get close to people.

He had been a soldier for six years since he was eighteen, and he found that throwing himself into his career was the safest avenue.

He hadn't actually _wanted_ to be involved with anyone; not until he met Charlie. She was unlike anyone he'd ever met before. She was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. She looked like an angel, yet acted like one of his squadron buddies. She had broken down a few times when he'd been with them, sure, but overall she was tough as nails and had a heart of gold, surmounting any and all obstacles in pursuit of finding her brother.

Adjusting the rucksack on his shoulders, Jason stopped before the little shop in Noblesville, and slowly opened the door. Hutch sat in the warm beams of morning light at his desk, surrounded by stacks of dusty tomes, books stacked haphazardly all over the room.

"Good mor-" Hutch paled slightly, recognition lighting alertly in his ocean blue eyes. He stroked his beard. "You're militia, aren't you?"

Jason smiled, wondering if Hutch knew that he had been kept captive in the warehouse when he was there with Nora. "Yes, I am. I'm actually looking for something." _Which wasn't a total lie_. He was interested in the poem Rachel had mentioned having read to Charlie last night. "Have you heard of a poem called, 'Stars' by Robin Frost or something?"

Hutch leaned back in his seat, appraising the young man. "Robert Frost. Interesting. You don't strike me as the poetry loving type."

Jason hooked his thumbs beneath the straps of his rucksack, leaning back on his heels. "Well, let's just say I'm trying to broaden my horizons."

Hutch cracked a grin, and inclined his head. "Fair enough. I believe I have a Robert Frost book here, actually. It's expensive, though."

Jason approached the desk as Hutch searched through a stack of books behind him. "Money's no concern."

Hutch found a small, thin, battered paperback with a black and white photograph of a handsome young man sulking on the cover.

"Here we are, Robert Frost." Hutch flipped to the back of the book and ran a wrinkled finger down the page until he found what he was looking for, then he looked in the book and opened it to a certain page. "'How countlessly they congregate, o'er our tumultuous snow, that flows in shapes as tall as trees when wint'ry winds do blow…' Huh, I haven't read this poem in a long, long time. Would you like the poem duplicated on the typewriter, or just buy the book outright?"

Jason looked to the archaic, heavy-looking black typewriter on the desk. "I think I'll buy the book, actually." Maybe he could read a little on his way to finding Charlie, maybe she'd like it as a peace offering when he did actually find her. Oh boy, that wasn't going to go down well.

A few minutes later, he exchanged money with Hutch and the book was his.

"Anything else?" Hutch asked brightly.

Jason looked to the shop door behind him. He closed it and locked it, drew the window shade, then turned around to Hutch, who he knew was now holding a knife below the desk. "Yes, actually." He yanked up his soft blue shirt to show the man the fresh tattoo.

Hutch stared at it, looked up at him, then stared at it again. "How long?"

Jason didn't even blink. "A year. I've been working close to Monroe. It's been very secretive and I wasn't able to tell Charlie or Miles, or Nora."

Hutch leaned back in his seat, brandishing the knife in plain sight. "And why should I believe you?"

_Here goes. _"Because it's true," Jason lied. It troubled him how good he was getting at lying lately. "Being Captain Neville's son, I couldn't risk exposing myself so earlier on, when I've been in Monroe's inner circle. My father would have a conniption fit, and I have to wait for the right chance to bring Monroe down. Only a few people know about this, and I can't tell you their names… look; the thing is, man, I screwed up, you know?"

Hutch looked perplexed. "How so?"

"Well, the thing is, I'm in love with Charlie. I wanted to tell her the truth, but we had to get her brother delivered to Monroe first so I could be trusted by him. I have to find her and make amends, and then I will do what I'm assigned to do."

Hutch bolted forward in his seat. "And what is that? Kill him?"

Jason nodded once, his eyes boring into the other man. "I need your help finding her. I've got to make things right, you know? I can't have it on my conscience." He almost rolled his eyes at himself. _Oh, the irony._ Nevertheless, he pressed on. "Do you know what it's like, being in love?"

Hutch sort of phased out, and his eyes took on a glazed, faraway look. "Yes."

Jason glanced at the man's wedding ring, which he kept twisting.

"Then you have to help me. I can't lose her," he said sadly. "I can't possibly die without letting her know the truth. Do you know where they are?"

Hutch was quiet for a long time, studying him and deducing if he was being honest. Jason knew the body told 80% of the truth (according to his father), so he knew exactly what not to do and how to look straight into the other man's eyes, a sliver of desperation clouding his expression. Hutch put away the knife, clasped his hands together in front of his face, and studied Jason some more. After a minute, he pulled out a small slip of paper and a wooden pencil from his desk drawer, scratching something out in elegant handwriting.

"I'm not sure, but if I were them, this is where I'd be headed. It's an old restaurant in Springfield. Give 'em this so they know you spoke with me." He stood to hand the note to Jason, and paused before giving it to him. "And… if you see Nora, do me a favor, and tell her I'm sorry."

Jason nodded his thanks. "Sure thing, man." He beat a hasty retreat, opening the shade and unlocking the door.

"Hey, good luck with your girl," Hutch said.

Jason smiled out at the morning. "Thanks, I'll need it."


	4. Chapter 4

While Jason bought a brown cavalry horse and started towards Springfield, Charlie was having a very different experience of her own.

Only a few hours had passed since what she referred to as, "The Pharmaceutical Incident," in which she'd basically almost scrapped her virginity for a round of antibiotics.

Man, what a girl had to do to get some drugs in this world.

Charlie oscillated back and forth with the swaying, bumpy motions of the flimsy, horse-drawn cart they were all taking turns driving. It was sometime around 2 a.m., and she couldn't sleep if her life depended on it, so instead she settled for staying awake beneath the gaze of the stars. She looked down at Nora, who was resting on her back with her eyes closed. She seemed to be doing better.

After asking for the millionth time if she were okay, Aaron simply looked out at the dark road as Miles drove. Well, they might all now know that she was a virgin, but at least she got a decent bath out of it.

Charlie was beginning to realize several things about the world around her, and about growing up: one, being on your own sucks. She used to complain that her dad hovered way too much, and in actuality he should have better prepared her and Danny for the real world, rather than sheltering them in their own little bubble – but she _did_ miss the bliss and comfort, the freedom of total ignorance. Two, no one wants to listen to you whine. It was a harsh lesson to learn; as Ben always played the role of concerned parent and overprotective father, and so being open with her emotions had always come as easy as breathing. But it had no place in the Monroe Republic, and members of the Resistance were especially included. Three, she was finally growing up. With it came twinges of embarrassment for the way she acted, regret for letting herself be suckered in by Nate, or whatever his name was, and just a feeling of inadequacy amongst all these seasoned, hard ass adults, who undoubtedly thought her naïve and a pain, to boot.

She cringed, remembering her idiotic words to Aaron before they'd escorted her to the bedroom.

"_Uh, Charlie, have you ever actually done this before?"_

"_No, but I mean how hard can it be? Lie on my back, spread my legs, and it'll be over quick, right?"_

Before he'd been able to say anything, she was taken by the two whores to the room. She had looked over her shoulder, and Aaron looked pale and distraught. She knew he'd had something to do with Miles' last minute change of heart; which, if she was being honest, she was grateful for.

She wasn't necessarily _scared_ of losing her virginity, but to give it to Guido the Icky wasn't on her bucket list.

"You look deep in thought," Aaron's mellow voice floated over at her.

She looked at him, slightly frowning. "Just… thinking about how much has happened in the last few weeks. I feel like I'm twenty years older or something."

Aaron nodded. "We all do, Charlie."

She sighed, drawing her knees up to her chest and linking her arms around them. It was okay to be open with Aaron, he cried right along with her every single time. That was one of the things she loved about him, he'd always been like a giant teddy bear. "I feel… embarrassed, I guess, about all the times I whined or cried when I could have been helping Danny."

Aaron took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Oh, Charlie, you have been through so much, and you've handled it really well… Don't think on it for a second. You'll realize as you get older that the best thing you can do if you have an experience you wish you could take back, is just to move on without regret. That's how we all grow up. You take the experience with you, and you always remember it, but you continue forward and don't let it affect the person you know you're capable of becoming." He reached for her hand, and she placed hers in his large, warm palm. He was her teacher growing up, and her father's best friend. In a weird way, he was more an uncle to her than Miles was. "Promise me something, okay?"

"Uh, okay."

He squeezed her palm. "I watched you these last fifteen years, you and Danny. No matter where we end up, or what happens, or how you might change, promise me you won't lose what's in here." He pointed to her heart. "Too many of us have chucked our humanity out the door like it was nothing. You two were always good kids. Just promise me you won't let go of that goodness, no matter what people throw at you, okay?"

She smiled for the first time in what felt like forever. "Okay. I promise."

"Good." Aaron leaned back and shut his eyes. "We have a few hours till we get to that safe house. I think we should get some shut eye."

Charlie nodded, curling up beside Nora. She pulled the blanket higher over Nora, making sure she was comfortable and warm.

After a moment, she whispered, "Thanks, Aaron, for coming with us."

"No problem, Charlie."

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When Charlie awoke, she was the one covered by the blanket, and little strands of the sun peaked through the fading fibers of the plaid coverlet. The wagon had stopped, and she heard conversation, the first definitely Miles.

"So, when did it happen?"

"A few weeks ago, the militia got 'im." The second voice sounded younger than Miles, a man. He had a deep, melodic voice.

"I'm sorry, Alexander."

"It's just Xander, now. But I'm in charge here, and you're welcome to stay as long as you need. You'll be safe here until you're ready to go to Philadelphia. Shane is taking the big guy and your lady friend to the back; she'll be able to rest there."

"Thanks a lot."

"No problem. So, who's this?"

Charlie felt them approach her side of the wagon, and instinctively she pushed off the blanket, sitting up, and her hair tumbled around her in a wild mane.

"Woah," said the younger man.

She blinked groggily as the sun came into her eyes.

"So, I don't know if I'm dreaming here or what, but if I am I don't want to wake up. You are _gorgeous_." A tall man came into focus, taller than Miles and of some sort of Italian descent, she guessed. He had longish, raven black hair that cut to his shoulders, an extremely handsome, defined face, and hawk-like dark eyes. He also seemed only slightly older than her. He wore a dusty white shirt, black vest, and jeans.

"Take it easy, Romeo. This is my niece, Charlie."

Charlie looked around; they were in front of a boarded up restaurant with a sign that said "Ruby Tuesday's." She gathered up the quilt, and the young man offered a large, tanned hand to help her out of the wagon.

"Thanks," she murmured. Once on the ground, she was aware of two things at once; he was really, really attractive, and he was also the exact height and build as 'Nate.' She put out her hand. "Charlie."

"Xander," he said, his warm voice pouring like honey all over her. He carefully lifted her hand and kissed the top of her knuckles, staring fixedly at her. "You'll be safe here," he assured her kindly.

Miles clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Not to worry, Charlie, Xander's on the up and up, not like Nipples."

Xander's eyebrows lifted in surprise, and Charlie groaned, covering her eyes with her free hand. "Nipples?" he laughed.

"The ex," Miles offered.

"Oh," Xander said, still holding Charlie's hand.

"He's not my ex," she snarled. "He's not my anything."

"Well, Charlie," Xander said amicably, putting an arm around her shoulder, "Why don't you come on in. We'll get you a cup of coffee, introduce you to the rest of the Resistance, and you can forget all about Nipples."

Despite herself, Charlie laughed. "Oh, geez… Thank you for having us, Xander."

He gave her a million dollar smile as he pulled open the door for her. "Beautiful, I have a feeling I'm the one that's going to be thanking Miles for bringing you here. You're under my complete protection. C'mon."


	5. Chapter 5

Jason had always been a details man. He was methodical, precise, and careful. It was why he was often chosen for recon missions; he could be trusted to notice everything and everyone, and he could be stealthy while doing so. He excelled at it.

Presently, the details in his life weren't doing so well. The horse he'd bought at the edge of Noblesville seemed to have gone lame halfway to his destination, and as a result he had to bandage the beast's leg and lead it along by foot. He would sell it to the first person he came across. The delay had set him back a ways, so he decided to make camp and fish for the night. He would find Charlie and her company tomorrow. Hunting was harder this time of year as some game had gone into hibernation with the upcoming winter, but fish were always in abundance. He caught two nice lake trout and wrapped them in leaves.

At an oak tree near the riverbank, Jason peeled off his damp shirt, and hung it on a tree branch to dry. It felt good to air out the tattoo. He settled his gear against the trunk, dropped and did seventy-five push-ups, sixty sit-ups, and twenty pull-ups on a steady branch.

Exercise had always helped clear his mind and keep stress at bay, and having a pleasing body made him feel good. He wondered offhandedly what Charlie thought of it. He knew from the first time he saw her that she was attracted to him by the way she'd blushed and ducked her head, and the feeling was completely mutual. But on that train, shielding her soft, curvy body close against him had felt nice, it had felt right. He liked protecting her. He liked that feeling of responsibility for her; it made him feel like his own independent man, and not just part of the machine that Monroe engineered.

He remembered when he was little, before the blackout; his dad always went down to the basement every night after dinner and worked the punching bag like a deranged lunatic. It was the only time he ever saw Tom break apart from his calm, collected demeanor, before everything went bad. He had always been such a quiet, kind man before everything started. Still, it had set the precedence in the importance of a good workout regime for Jason.

Taking care of his body made him feel accountable and good about his direction in life, no matter what was happening. He was dead certain that Tom wouldn't have been able to take on their neighbor that night if he hadn't of been training vigorously. Anger can go a long way, but physical capability usually is what comes out on top.

After stripping down and bathing in the lake, Jason dressed in his favorite blue shirt and pants, tethered his horse to a tree branch, and made a low campfire. He cleaned a large, flat rock, set some fresh green leaves on it, used his hunting knife to debone both of the fish, and set them on the rock-plate against the campfire to broil properly. Earlier he'd collected some late season boysenberries and chestnuts en route. He chewed thoughtfully on a few berries and set the chestnuts to roast in his pan, and sprinkled a thimbleful of ground parsley his mother had given him on the trout. Later, he would clean the rock-plate and cover it with a dirty shirt, to keep his feet warm in his sleeping roll overnight. He boiled water in his kettle, making some black tea, and enjoyed a quiet meal.

In an ironic way, he was happy to be out here again. There was something about coming home from the field that just threw him for a loop, in that he had to adjust to civilian life again, managing to juggle being open and courteous to his mother, yet being constantly under his father's thumb. He liked the silence and stillness of the forest, the way the moon reflected on the rippled ridges of the lake. Here, anger was shelved for a time. Here, death and destruction were nothing compared to the power of nature.

He had a lot to deal with, and soon. He knew what he had to do to retrieve that pendant and it sickened him inside, because it meant hurting Charlie again.

What he'd said to Hutch hadn't been a complete lie; he _did_ have feelings for her. He doubted it was love; he wasn't capable of loving. He didn't know how to. Yet, every time he was near her all he wanted to do was touch her, smell her, and be close to her, even if it was just ten feet. It was a tough spot to be in, because his first and foremost duty was to his father and the militia, and his integrity and honor to duty wouldn't allow him to negate that responsibility. He sighed gruffly, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. Best get some rest while he still could.

The edge of the tattered book of poetry he'd bought from Hutch earlier poked out of his open rucksack. After taking a large bite of the fish, he reached over and lifted the book out of the bag. He checked out the dude on the front cover of the book, who looked both thoughtful and tortured as he sulked for the camera. "Robert Frost, huh," he muttered, opening the book at random to a page.

The chestnuts popped in the pan, giving off a nice, savory aroma. Jason shifted the pan around a little to let them roast some more. He settled comfortably against his pack, scratching the edges of the healing tattoo on his chest through his shirt and reading out loud:

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As it turned out, Xander's safe house was actually pretty cool. They had an office where they held meetings around an old, plastic round table (and apparently also played poker there), a boxing ring, of all things, in what used to be a party room, and makeshift bedrooms with sheets as walls for the current occupants.

They'd been there the whole day, and Nora was already much better off. Everyone currently all sat around the table, Miles, Nora, Aaron, Charlie, Xander, and a few of his resistance comrades: Vanya, a short and loud African-American woman around Nora's age, Mitch, an ex-Marine in is 50's (who had a love/hate bro-mance going with Miles), and Shane, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed friend of Xanders who looked painfully like Danny.

Miles told Charlie he had known Xander as a boy, was really good friends with his father, and they were all now planning an attack on Monroe's Mansion. She liked Xander, he was openly flirtatious, but he didn't mean anything by it, it was just his rapscallion nature. He was smart and calm, but in charge, and he handled it really well with an undertone of humor. He was definitely interested in her, but was letting her take the lead, as he seemed to suspect they'd just been through something horrible.

"All right," Miles said, taking a swig of coffee as he sat down. "So, until now we've been sloppy. We sort of just went charging in, asses over tails, without a concrete plan in place. Obviously they have Danny now," he glanced at Charlie, "So at this point the only thing we can do is proceed with the plans to join the resistance and attack Bass." Everyone looked pointedly at him. "Yeah, yeah, give me a break, okay? Guy's been my – _was _my friend for over twenty years. To attack _Monroe_."

Xander smiled. "That's better, man. Okay," he unscrolled a tattered, yellowed blueprint across the table. "So, here's the layout of the place. Three of us will go in dressed as members of the militia. We will infiltrate the mansion, take down the sentries, and make our way to Monroe."

"What about my family?" Charlie asked, looking him pointedly in the eyes.

"We will extract them if we can, Charlie."

"Not good enough. I want to be one of the ones that go in."

Xander exchanged a look with Miles.

"I'll go with her," he said. "Bass and I have unfinished business."

Xander nodded, glancing at Charlie. "Okay, so, once in there Vanya is going to plant a detonator bomb with enough C4 to blow the whole place to kingdom come."

"I'll help her on that," Nora said.

"Hell yeah," Vanya nodded to her. Charlie could only imagine the range of damage these two could come up with.

"We will stay here for two days while the ladies prepare the device, then we're going to Philly. Everyone agreed?"

They all nodded their consent. "Great, so Miles, you're the one who's been there more than anyone else. Where do we enter?"

Miles leaned over the schematics, and over his back Xander smiled wickedly at her.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning Vanya and Nora were in a back room of the safe house, standing over a long counter, constructing the bomb with all the intense concentration Maggie used to have when performing surgeries in their village. Charlie took another bite from a small, wooden spoon of the oatmeal that Mitch had given her after she'd woken, watching their thin, nimble fingers close over pliers and insert wires into large blocks of C4.

"Careful, girl," Vanya hissed as Nora snapped off an end of a blue and white twisted wire.

Nora laughed low. "Oh, don't worry. This is what I specialize in."

Charlie quietly left the room, walking past the room that had the boxing ring in it, where to her surprise she found Miles and Shane, the blonde friend of Xander's, fighting each other free-style with their shirts off. The onlookers were crowded around the sides of the ring, some leaning on the ropes and hollering orders at the two men.

Xander came up close behind her. "Hey, Charlie, how did you sleep?"

She turned to him. "Morning. Not too bad, thanks. That's the first bed I've slept on since-" she paused, remembering how close she'd come to 'sleeping' in a bed just the other night. "Well," she smiled tightly. "It's been a long time."

Xander looked wisely at her, and she knew he could sense something in her expression. "Let's get some air, okay?" He offered her his hand.

She glimpsed Miles and Shane going at it, saw Aaron look about ready to pass out at all the violence, and she took Xander's hand, letting him lead her out the front door. He leaned against a drain pillar in front of the restaurant, and she leaned against the one opposite, looking up at him. "I guess you know my dad was murdered by militia a couple weeks ago," he muttered.

Charlie grimaced empathetically. She could totally relate. "Yeah, Miles told me… I'm really sorry. They killed my dad, too."

He stood straight, and approached her. "I know," he said softly, taking her hand. "So believe me when I say that a person in pain, no matter how well they can hide it, can sense another person in pain. Do you want to tell me what happened? I won't judge or anything, I'll just listen." His warm thumb rubbed soft circles against her palm. It felt nice.

She drew a deep breath and looked down at their hands. "I'm not sure that telling you would help me get my brother back, in fact every time I talk or think about what's happened, I usually get told off by Miles or someone else."

He lifted her chin with his finger, his handsome face caring and wise in his youth as he met her eyes. "Well, Miles isn't here right now, and I'd like to know what happened to make such a beautiful woman so closed off."

She summarized what had happened the other night and how she'd only just escaped before she'd had to have sex for Penicillin. She left out the virginity party, but judging from the way his angular jaw tightened, she suspected he knew.

"Are you okay?" he put a warm palm against her cheek. "I mean, are you seriously okay, Charlie?"

She angrily felt tears well in her eyes, brim over, and spill down her cheek. "Not really," she whispered, looking up at him.

Xander was a little too physically close for her liking, but he had a calm, centered demeanor that just made her comfortable being open and telling him things. Part of his quality as leader, she supposed. The expression he gave her warmed her heart, it was from one young person to another that said, _We shouldn't have to go through this shit. I'm sorry that happened to you. I care._

Without thinking, she flung her arms around his neck and embraced him. He leaned down, stroking her hair and pulling her close. He was a little too hands-on, but it was okay for the moment.

"It's okay, Charlie, it's just us. Just let it out." Strangely enough, she had no more tears to shed, so she just stood like that, feeling innocuous and warm in his arms. After a minute or two, she pulled away, dashing what tears remained away from her cheeks.

"Thanks, I-" she looked up at him, and they were startlingly close. She could feel his breath against her forehead. He stared at her tenderly, and pulled her hand up to kiss the knuckles, as he'd done when she met him.

Charlie suddenly decided to act, and before she could question what she was doing or wonder where it was coming from, she stood on her toes, and touched her lips cautiously to his in a quick, sweet kiss to convey her thanks. She kept her eyes open, gauging his reaction, and stood back down, looking up at him. Something sparked in his obsidian eyes, and Xander swooped down, pulling her close before she could think, and kissed her full on the mouth, pulling her completely in.

"Get your damned hands off her!" They both broke apart, and Nate/whoever he was had dropped a large rucksack next to a limping horse, and was now charging Xander, who bellowed for help to the rest of the resistance inside as "Nate" went flying through the air past her, and took him down.


	7. Chapter 7

By the murky darkness and fog of the coming morning, Jason had packed up his gear, cleaned his horse's lame leg, and he trudged off in the cold to find Charlie. He walked along an unkempt, cracked freeway for a while, and then cut off into a forest, which, according to his directions for the restaurant and his map, were on the other side of the woods and across the street from a park.

The horse stopped sharply, and snorted cold air out of his huge nostrils. Jason held tightly to the bridle and tackle, looking sharply around. He smelled the air and listened carefully; nothing seemed amiss, so he continued forward, murmuring the lines of a poem he'd read last night, "'He gives his harness bells a shake to ask if there's been some mistake.' We really need to name you, horse. How about, 'pain in the ass'?" The horse had no comment, merely continuing forward without complaint.

Jason had just about worked out what he was going to say to Charlie, how he would win her over and procure Aaron's pendant.

Charlie was the key to getting in; the rest he could do himself. He spent the next hour deliberating on it as he pulled the horse along through the woods. The sun rose above the canopy of trees overhead, filtering little shards of early sun light sporadically as he made his way long.

The horse had definitely set him back. His dad would just have shot the beast the second it had gone lame and had a giant coal barbecue for the whole battalion, but Jason had always been patient with animals. He had a private philosophy that he and his father never shared: just because something's broken, it doesn't mean you throw it away. The horse would never be cavalry-worthy again, but it would make a decent plow mount to a local farmer.

As he neared the edge of the forest, Jason stopped a moment to retrieve the book of poetry from his rucksack. He clutched it. This was his ticket in, and he knew he had seconds to convince them, or he would be dead.

Sure enough, the overgrown park that looked more like an ivy jungle came into view, and he led the horse carefully across it, spotting the sign for "Ruby Tuesday's" across the street and on the corner near some abandoned smaller shops. Some hanging trees obscured his view, and he stopped a moment, composing himself and hoping this would go down as well as it did the first time he'd seen Charlie.

He rounded the corner and approached the restaurant, trying to decide how he wanted to do this. When in militia training as a younger man, girls would stare at him from the fences bordering the militia academy when the recruits their morning drills. Posing for Charlie had worked particularly well by the waterfall when she saw him for the first time, flexing the bow when he had absolutely no reason to, but he had a feeling today would be a lot different. For one, he'd pushed her off of a train. For another, she was a lot less innocent and credulous. He would have to go for being–

Jason's blood ran cold, and he saw red.

Ten feet away, near the awning of the boarded up restaurant with faded paint, Charlie was held close in the arms of another man, who was proceeding to kiss the life out of her.

"Get your damned hands off her!" he shouted, and abandoning all rationale and thoughts of reason, he slammed the book and his gear down in the dust, and broke into a run, tackling the guy to the ground.

What he wasn't counting on was the guy was exactly his size, and in excellent condition. The man held him off for a few seconds and managed to holler, "Out here! Help!" before Jason sunk his fist into the side of his face. He punched him twice, three times, and a hard fourth before Charlie actually threw herself on his back in an obscure imitation of a piggy back ride, yanking at his neck.

"Nate, _stop it_!"

He hit the idiot one more time in his perfect, magnificent face; the guy looked near unconsciousness, and he got up.

Charlie slid down from his back, and yanked his arm to turn him to face her.

"Just what the hell are you doing, Charlie?!" he yelled. He was beyond pissed.

She looked more than affronted. She opened her mouth to speak.

"That's funny, I was just about to ask you the exact same thing," a gruff, deadly voice came from the awning. "Raise your hands, put them behind your head, interlock your fingers, and turn around, _slowly_."

Jason did as ordered.

Miles was two feet away from his face, his sword pointed towards Jason's heart, and three crossbows and loads of guns and rifles were trained on him by the crowd gathered at the entrance.

"Where are your men?" Miles asked lowly.

"I don't have any men. I'm here on my own."

"Search him!" Miles barked at Charlie.

Jason went pale as he saw the black, shark-like bleakness of Miles' expression. He had to act fast. "Charlie, in the dirt, there's a book. You need to see what's inside." He heard her movements behind him.

"What is it?" Miles asked, not taking his eyes off of Jason for a second.

"It's… a book of poetry, it looks like," she murmured from behind him. He heard the microwhisper of pages turning.

"There's a marker, a card inside," Jason said, "Open it to the page it's at, and hand Miles the card. Hold onto the book."

She did so, and a second later Miles glanced down at the card. "Who gave you this?"

"Hutch; back in Noblesville."

Miles handed the card to Xander, who was up and holding his perfect cheekbone.

"And where is Hutch now?" Miles asked slowly.

"He's very much alive and well in his shop. No one knows about him."

"Uh huh," Miles grunted unconvincingly.

Charlie walked around to stand beside her uncle. "Miles, what's going on?" She looked back and forth between the two men.

Miles kept his sword trained on Jason. "Get to your knees, Nipples."

Charlie saw the killing frenzy that was evident in Miles' eyes. She looked at Jason, frantic. "Nate, whatever you have to say, you better do it quick."

Keeping his fingers interlaced behind his head, Jason obediently got to his knees. "My name's not Nate. It's Jason. Jason Neville," he said, looking straight at her. "I'm Captain Neville's son." He heard a few gasps from the awning, yet Charlie looked like she could hardly breathe. "But I'm also Resistance."

"Bullshit," Xander spat out a small bit of blood, holding his cheek. "My dad was one of the leaders of the Resistance, my friend, and you are not one of us, that much I can guaran-friggin'-tee."

Jason ignored Lover boy, and looked instead at Miles.

"I remember you," he said in a low voice. "You used to come around to my father's dinner parties all the time; you were drunk for half of it. You would take my Transformers and pretend they were doing kung fu."

He saw recognition flare up in Miles' eyes, and if he was not mistaken, a smidgeon of amusement. "Tom Neville's son… you've grown. A lot."

Jason shrugged with a barely-there grin, still keeping his hands joined. "I joined the Resistance a year ago, only three people know about it, but-"

Miles rolled his eyes and looked bored. "But, let me guess; if you tell us they'd all die, right? Couldn't Bass have come up with something a bit better than this? I thought he knew me. It's too bad I'm going to have to kill you, Nipples."

Xander laughed. "Oh, so _this_ is Nipples?"

Jason shot him a venomous look.

"Ha, it's easy to see why Charlie moved on."

"Xander," Charlie chastised, looking at Jason with a perplexed expression. "So… your name is _Jason_?"

"Yes," he said softly, looking straight at her.

"That's enough of that," Miles said coolly. "It's a lovely fairytale, Nipples, but I ain't buying it. Bass sent you, I can smell it."

"Charlie, take off my shirt," Jason said.

She snickered. "Oh, yeah, like that's going to happen."

"Just do it," he growled. "Lift it up. You need to see something."

Charlie looked at Miles, and after a moment he nodded. "Don't move," he ordered.

Jason nodded, patiently sitting still as Charlie approached, inching up his shirt. Her small, cool fingers made his body tighten and a charge run through him. He inhaled, and a whiff of clean hair, the lingering scent of rosewater, woods and earth invaded him. "You smell good," he murmured as she came close, and he felt her shiver as his lips touched the shell of her ear. "Pull it up higher," he said as she lifted the shirt to his abdomen. "All the way up."

Charlie lifted the shirt, and when she saw the tattoo, she gasped. "Miles, look at this."

Miles moved slightly and saw the tattoo. "Nora," he called, "Come here a sec."

Nora approached them with a revolver in hand, and peered down at the tattoo. She looked into Jason's eyes, and he was careful to train his gaze into hers as well. "Hm," she stood next to Miles.

"Well?" Miles asked her.

"It doesn't mean anything," she said. "He knew I had a tattoo from when we all were traveling, and he probably overheard my conversation with Hutch when you had him locked down."

Charlie adjusted Jason's shirt back down and stayed crouched next to him. "But it doesn't explain why they haven't killed Hutch," she frowned. He noticed the little crinkle she got in the middle of her forehead when she did that.

"It's because they don't _know_ about Hutch." Jason said quickly. "I didn't say anything. I couldn't tell you, even though I really, really wanted to," he looked right at Charlie, willing her to buy it.

"You threw me off of a _train_," she challenged. "Why the hell should I trust you?"

"My father was going to kill you, Charlie," he retorted seriously. "I couldn't let that happen. I had to keep you safe. Danny had to go to Philly. I couldn't risk exposing myself when we were so close to our goal." He risked moving one hand to touch the side of her face. "I'm… in love with you," he feigned in what he hoped was a silky voice.

She barked a laugh. "You're _what_?!" She stood, crossing her arms and glowering down at him. "Oh, please, spare me! You _lie_ to me, you don't even tell me your real name, you refuse to help me even when I _beg_ you to help me find my _brother_, you throw me off a train… my God, you've never even _kissed_ me, and now I'm supposed to believe you _love_ me? Tell me if I'm missing anything here."

Jason put his hands back behind his head, looking at Miles. "It's what I came to say before I complete my mission," he said, "But there's also something else. Charlie, look at the page I marked, in the book."

Scoffing, she picked up the book she'd set down, opening it to the page he'd dog-eared. "You're one seriously screwed up piece of work, Na… Jason," she amended awkwardly.

"It's good to hear you say my name, my actual name," he cooed, lowering his voice to a smooth, deep tenor that he knew drove girls crazy, "It sounded… nice." He could see an amused expression flit across Miles' face.

"Just what the hell am I supposed to be looking for anyway?" Charlie grouched.

"A poem. 'Stars.'" He watched her carefully as she scanned the poem, and it took a moment, but recognition slowly dawned on her.

Here it came. He'd figured out that Rachel wanted him to tell her when she'd mentioned the poem. "Charlie," he started slowly, "I came back before I complete my mission to tell you that I love you, but also to tell you that your mother's alive."


	8. Chapter 8

"What?!" Miles and Charlie shrieked at the same time. Miles was so shocked that he started lowering his sword. Jason leaned back on his heels, putting his hands on his thighs.

Charlie was shaking. "No," her voice warbled. "No, my mom's dead."

"I only found out three nights ago, when General Monroe called me into his office. She was right there by the window, Charlie," he knew this time that she could see the truth, the conviction in his eyes. "She was looking out the window, and she mentioned reading 'Stars' to you when you were a kid."

Charlie's eyes filled up with tears, and she covered her mouth and nose with both palms. He looked at Miles, who was looking suspiciously guilty about something.

Charlie fought her tears and stood up straight, shaken but looking at Miles. "The only way he could know that is if he actually saw her."

"I'll tell you all about it, she's alive and well and Danny is with her, but they're in Monroe's custody," Jason said. "But can I get up now? Please." He looked to Miles.

Miles looked conflicted, and he glanced at the man that had been kissing Charlie. "Xander, it's your joint, and your call. He seems to be telling the truth, but if you want me to kill 'im I can."

The guy, Xander, came into view, and Jason stared daggers at him.

"I want to fight him." Xander said in a pleasant voice.

"Stand up," Miles ordered. Jason got to his feet, and he looked for a brief moment at Charlie, who had stars in her eyes and a hopeful look on her face at the concept of both her mother and brother alive and well. Jason faced Xander.

Miles stood between them, holding them back by a hand on either man's chest. "Okay," he sighed. "So, while Nipples' loyalty is still in question, it seems we have a fight on our hands. Now, as I haven't watched HBO in almost two decades in counting here, I think what we need to do to welcome Captain Neville's son to the fold, is to have you two duke it out in the ring. A proper, no holds-barred, gloves-on boxing match." A cheer broke out, mostly from the men. Miles turned to Jason. "You okay with that, Turn coat?"

Jason felt a huge weight lifted off his shoulders, and he just smirked at Miles. "You know who my father is and what he does. What do you think?"

Miles grinned. "We have a match!" he yelled.

Vanya and Nora moved next to Charlie. Vanya laughed. "Oh, Lord, I'll watch _that_."

Nora snorted. "This should be interesting." All Charlie could do was smile.

Miles took a swig of beer in an old glass and stood unceremoniously between Jason and Xander. He cleared his throat and spoke to the scraggly audience. "Yeah, all right, settle down. So, this is where I think I'm supposed to say something about making it a good clean fight, yadda yadda, and tell you to shake hands, but let's be honest here, I think pretty much everyone in the room wants you to kick his ass," he said to Xander. He looked at Jason. "No offense, Nipples."

"It's _Jason_," he growled back.

"The nickname stays."

"Whatever. Let's do this," he glowered at Xander, who was rotating his neck and shoulders, ready to go.

"In your corners!" Miles barked. He followed Jason to his corner, and grabbed his wrists, checking that his boxing gloves were on securely. He spoke quietly. "Listen up, I have a bottle of whiskey riding on this fight, so don't let me down."

Jason lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. "You _bet _on me?! But, you don't even _like_ me!"

Miles shrugged. "That's true, but what the hell's that got to do with anything? I've seen you drive an arrow with only your _hand_ into the chest of the whack job that kidnapped Charlie. My money's on you, Nipples. Just don't kill 'im, 'kay?"

Bemused, Jason nodded vaguely and stared over at Xander, who was ready to go.

Miles lifted his glass of beer up to the ceiling like a glorified microphone. "The rules are there are no rules; just no killing. We need you both. Let the Man-whore Olympics commence!" That earned him a few laughs, and Miles smirked, proud of himself, as he separated the ropes to step out of the ring.

"Wait," Xander called. "We need to have a prize."

"I get to kick your ass, that's the prize," Jason snarled, starting towards him.

Xander rolled his eyes. "Whatever, 'Nipples.' Hey Charlie!"

Jason looked over, and Charlie stood against the wall with her arms folded, an annoyed look on her face. "What?"

"How about you kiss the champion?" Xander glanced at Jason. "That's fair, right?"

Jason thought on it for a split second. He knew he was going to win. "That's fair. Charlie?"

She sighed, looking straight at him with a storm in her eyes. "Why not." People made catcalls and whistles, and Charlie blushed, even though her arms were still folded. Jason stared at her and gave her a smoldering look… only to realize he'd missed the '_Ding' _Miles mimicked, and the first punch went to Xander, connecting right across Jason's jaw.

Miles smashed against the wall beside Charlie, next to her as she watched Xander and Jason go at it. "Admit it." Miles smiled.

"Admit what?" She asked irritatedly, wincing as Jason fisted a particularly hard uppercut into Xander's abs.

"Admit that you love this. I mean, look at them. You're enjoying this."

She looked at him, her mouth agape. "I am not!"

"I know _I am_," Vanya said from a few feet away, fanning herself.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thank you all for the kind and constructive reviews. Please remember, especially from this point forward, this story **_**is**_** rated M for a reason. I'm glad you've all enjoyed this story; I've really enjoyed writing it and getting inside Jason's noggin'. **** Many thanks! **

Before they stepped into the ring, both Xander and Jason had removed their shirts, and decided to fight barefoot in just their jeans and boxing gloves. Jason was pleased to discover he was a lot more defined and stacked than Xander, who was a bit on the skinny side.

The guy could fight though, he'd give him that. It was nice to have a proper match with someone he instantly disliked but who could actually throw a punch; Jason had pretty much wiped the floor with all the militia soldiers in his father's fight club in Philly, so much so that his father stopped inviting him over a year ago.

At one point, Xander gave Jason a right cross that spun him into the ropes; as Jason shook his head to clear it, pushing his pulpy gloves on the ropes to stand up, he spotted Aaron watching the match only a few feet away, and conveniently, right around his neck was the chain of the pendant, which disappeared into his shirt.

Anger flared inside of him that he'd suppressed until now, and Jason whirled around, unleashing his fury on Xander, giving a succession of quick jabs and an uppercut that put him back on top. Amidst the increased cheers, hoots and hollering by the onlookers, Jason channeled his anger and thought about his father.

"_Weakness is a state of mind, Jason. The sooner you learn that the better. You are stronger than everyone. You have to be. You can't afford to lose or let your guard down; it is vital for your survival in this world. Weakness is for cowards. If a man's coming at you, what do you do? Do you lie down and take it because you're scared? Or do you fight – for your life, for your family's life? You have to be stronger than they are; you have to win. Every. Single. Time."_

Xander protected his head as Jason basically used his abs as a sparring apparatus.

He hated his father.

_Punch._

He loved him, but he hated him.

_Punch._

Deeply.

It seemed like freedom came so easily to some; freedom to love, freedom to be free of responsibility, but he was chained down and carved into the intricate detail of his father's agenda. He was being used as a tool. Well, if this was his life, then so be it. But he was going to _win_ this thing and claim his earned kiss with Charlie, the one consolation he could feel decent about in this whole screwed up forgery.

Xander was done for, he knew it. Jason stepped back and let Xander draw a breath; he paused, and then delivered a hard, swift blow to Xander's ridiculously pretty face, which knocked him out. There was suddenly complete silence, and he realized that everyone was staring at him, some with disturbed expressions on their face.

Charlie was rushing through the ropes of the ring, and he grinned like an idiot, opening his arms to her, but she rushed over to check that Xander was okay. Miles followed her, standing next to Jason and chuckling.

"He's fine, Charlie." He lifted Jason's glove in the air. "We have a champion!" Mixed and somewhat sarcastic applause met his words, and Miles pointed at an older, gruff fellow. "I'm collecting that whiskey, Mitch." He patted Jason's sweaty shoulder. "Good job." Jason panted, and nodded.

Xander was coming to, and Charlie helped him stand up.

"Xander, are you okay?" Charlie asked worriedly. His face was peppered and red with what were sure to be bruises later on, but weirdly enough, he started to laugh as he looked at Jason.

"I haven't had anyone kick my ass in the ring, _ever_… I still don't trust you, 'Nipples'. If this goes sour on us, though, at least we have Captain Neville's son we can use as leverage. All things considered though, you're a helluva fighter." He put out his boxing glove, and Jason fist bumped it with his own, his attention fixed now on Charlie.

He raised and lowered his eyebrows suggestively. "I believe I'm owed a kiss."

Charlie blushed.

Miles opened the ropes of the ring for Xander, who winced as he stepped out. "Come on, Xander, Mitch has some tobacco you can rub on your bruises."

Charlie stood there timidly, rubbing her arm as Jason closed in on her. He was reminded of a deer the second it saw him before he drove an arrow into its heart. "Pucker up," he said darkly, with a predatory grin.

She bit her lip, and looked to the side. "Take off your gloves, first."

Jason looked into her pretty, light blue eyes, smiling. "Got to help me with that." She helped him take off the gloves and slowly unwrap his hands, a faint crimson blush heating her lovely skin.

"You stink," she laughed, making a funny face as she got a whiff of his pungent sweat and the last of the tape came off his hands.

"Ah, come on, Charlie, you're not afraid of a little sweat, are you?" he teased, closing in on her. He invaded her body space, and she put her hands on his chest for lack of anywhere else to put them.

"No," she retorted with false bravado, "Are _you_?"

"Come a little closer and find out," he purred. Catcalls abounded from the remaining audience.

Charlie rolled her eyes, but smiled back up at him. "I still don't trust you, at all. I just want to make it clear that I'm doing this because I made a pr-"

He kissed her. Cheers and whistles flooded the room, but all he could hear was how hard his heart was pounding. He was tender in kissing her first, not wanting to scare her off with how much he wanted to devour her, but he pressed softly and enticingly against her mouth, wrapping his arms around her waist and carding a hand through her silky hair, getting as close as he could. When he felt her relax and begin to respond to the kiss, he deepened it, pressing against her slightly and sensually nipping her lips with his own.

She moaned; just a little sound only he could hear, and the sound she made went straight to his groin. He was instantly hard. He drew back a little, and looked down into her glazed eyes.

She licked her lips and briefly shut her eyes. "Can we, um… go somewhere private? I don't want to do this here." She looked conflicted, and he saw something worrisome and slightly bleak pass through her expression.

He frowned slightly. He'd never seen her look like that. "Sure, come on." He lifted the ropes as she stepped down, and took her hand.

"We'll be back," she said to Nora, who was watching with her arms folded and a knowing countenance.

He paused in front of Nora, remembering something. "Oh, I almost forgot. Hutch wanted me to tell you he was sorry," he said.

Nora lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah, I expect he is. Fat lot of good that did me." She inspected her nails. "Thanks for telling me."

Charlie took the lead, holding his hand as she took him to the back of the safe house, stopping before a door. A faded, scratched plastic plaque at the top said, "STAFF ONLY", and she opened it and motioned for him to come in with her. She shut and locked the door. A little window at the rear wall let in some early morning light. She leaned against the bathroom counter, looking shyly up at him.

Jason frowned. "Are you okay?"

Charlie laughed, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes. "If I get asked that one more time, I think I'm going to throw up."

He put his hands on either side of her, effectively trapping her with his body. He lifted her up on the countertop between the two sinks, and seriously searched her eyes.

"What's going on, Charlie? Does this have anything to do with Xander?"

"No, I – that, earlier when he was kissing me, I just kissed him as kind of a thank you, I guess. He was being really nice and everything after I told him about the whole sex thing, and-"

He stopped her babbling, holding her chin so she'd look directly at him. "_What_ sex thing?" he growled. His insides clenched with anger.

She drew a deep breath, lifting and yanking her chin out of his hand. "It's not like that, just… Nora was stabbed, when we got on the train. She was really sick and she needed some serious medicine. Miles knew this... _guy _from like ten years ago that grew what she needed, but he wanted… he wanted me to have sex in return."

Jason clenched his jaw. "And did you?" he asked heatedly, feeling sick.

"No. No, somehow Aaron knew I was a virgin. I made this stupid comment on how easy it would be, and I think he knew. He told Miles, and Miles saved me before anything could happen. It all turned bad; he killed everyone, and we came here."

Jason felt the need to punch something. He breathed heavily out of his nostrils, and touched her face tenderly. "He never should have taken you there. I'm sorry, Charlie."

Tears filled up her eyes, and she looked to the ceiling, seemingly annoyed with herself. "God, I just wish I could stop crying. I feel like such a freak. I wish I could be strong, you know?"

Jason put a hand on either side of her face. "Listen to me. You _are_ strong. You're one of the strongest people I know."

Charlie drew in a shuddered breath, and exhaled. "I want that to be true. Just… kiss me," she whispered. Her baby blue eyes sparkled as she looked up at him beseechingly. "Kiss me, Jason, and make me forget all of this."

Man, he was all for that. He wanted to forget the militia, this mission, his father, and everything but Charlie. He leaned down and tenderly kissed the tears on her cheeks, then her lips once, pulling back to wipe the remaining tears away with his thumbs.

Charlie stared up at him, touching her fingers to his mouth. He kissed her fingertips.

"You have really nice lips," she smiled. "They're beautiful."

"_You're _ beautiful," he whispered, and kissed her full on the mouth. She moaned again as she'd done in the ring, and he stepped between her legs, pushing his body flush against hers. He felt electricity surge through his veins, and apparently she did too, because she wrapped her legs around his, pulling him closer.

He tentatively prodded her lips with his tongue, and when she opened her mouth slightly, he slid it into her. After a moment's hesitation she seemed to like it, and moved her own against his. They began sliding like velvet over one another.

Heat lit up his body, and as if frenzy had taken them over, they began searching each other with their hands as they consumed one another. She ran her hands along his sculpted, sore abs, and he touched her delicate neck, sliding his hand down until it rested on her breast.

"N-no, wait!" she gasped, just as he released her lower lip with his teeth. "Just stop for a second… what the hell am I doing? This is all wrong."

Jason wanted to nail her to the wall and take her like he'd never wanted anything before, but he backed off slightly to give her some space.

"Just… what are we even doing here, Jason?"

He ran his hands up and down her shapely legs through her dirty, dusty jeans. "We're finally being honest with each other about what he want," he said silkily. Charlie put her hands through her hair; it was plain to see she was freaking out.

"See, that's just it, there's no normalcy between us. This is such a twisted rela– whatever it is! Your _dad_ tried to choke me. You continually lied to me in the past, and then all of a sudden you show up with this cockamamie story and everything's supposed to be, _mm_-" He shut her up by kissing her again (which he was finding was a perfect solution), drugging her with all the passion he could.

He wanted her so much, he had no idea until now; his father and General Monroe could all hang. All he wanted in this moment was to lose himself in Charlie and never surface.

"You're _mine_," he whispered hotly in her ear. "You're right about everything else; but this, right now, this is true. You'll always be mine."

"I don't belong to anyone. You don't _own me_," she whispered back, and he smiled into her ear as she pretended not to be distracted by his hand, which was working its way slowly up her inner thigh.

"No, I don't own you, Charlie. But I _want_ to. I want to touch you. I don't want any other man to ever put his hands on you but me," he murmured, kissing her neck, sucking at a particularly sensitive junction at the spot where her collarbone began. She tilted her head back, giving him more leverage.

"I- uhn, can't think when you do that," she breathed, clutching his shoulders and drawing him closer.

"I know, and that works for me. Let's not think," he breathed, extending his hand around her thigh, stroking his fingers along her jeans even higher up. Charlie began to pant, and he knew she could feel it too, that electricity humming through him, humming through her.

"Jason," she whispered, and opened her legs slightly wider. Hearing his name from her lips was his undoing, and he pressed his palm against her core, beginning to rub her. He'd never done this before, but primal instinct took over. All he knew was that he had to have her, or he'd go crazy.

Distantly, he heard her moan and murmur something, but he was too into the feeling to hear her. She bucked against his hand, seemingly at war with herself with wanting him to stop, and wanting to go on.

"Jason!"

He drew a deep breath, and stopped, but still kept his hand on her. "What."

"I said, do you _really_ want to take my virginity here, in a bathroom?" As if someone had poured a bucket of cold water on him, he stepped back, dizzy from loving her. Flashes of the fantasies he'd had of her in his house, coming home to Charlie, loving her, keeping her, ran through his head.

"No," he conceded, turning around to adjust himself and calm down. He would soon have to hurt her, but in addition to everything placed on him and what he was tasked with, bringing Charlie pain was the last thing he wanted to do. This had to stop. He had to keep focused.

The problem was, stopping was the last thing he wanted to do.


	10. Chapter 10

Charlie checked her reflection in the cracked and dirty mirror. Behind her image, Jason was breathing in and out carefully, staring at the wall behind her, trying to compose himself. She decided retreat was the best strategy, and she unlocked the door, pausing to look over her shoulder.

He met her eyes, and she felt the liquid heat inside her flare up again. Amazing how she was trussed up and dolled up in sexy lingerie the other night, and felt more turned off than she could ever be; but one kiss from this confusing man sent shivers rushing straight to her core.

"Jason… is my mom really alive?"

He nodded, his dark eyes glittering with pent-up lust. His breathing was becoming less labored.

"Did she say anything about me? Anything else?" She knew on some level or another that Jason was lying about his mission, but she was the only one in the world who knew anything about her mother reading Robert Frost to her.

"No; she couldn't. General Monroe was right there. Mrs. Matheson was looking out the window, and mentioned the poem to me as I went into the meeting. I think it was her way of telling me to tell you about her, or something. But that's all she said," he smiled grimly.

Charlie remembered the small, tattered paperback book, and she reached in the back of her jeans, where she'd stored it earlier in her back pocket. "Here," she said, handing it to him.

"No," he said gently. "I bought it for you. You keep it." There was something in his demeanor that she hadn't seen before; an element of both charming and bashful.

"Thank you," she smiled, clutching the book to her breast. She turned to go.

"Danny knows you're okay, too, by the way. I told him."

Charlie kept a hand on the rusted doorknob. "Thank you. So, what's going to happen now? To you? To us?"

"I'll have to go back," he said, washing his hands in a basin of water on the countertop. His voice had tightened somewhat and gone slightly cold. He kept his eyes focused on the basin water. "Tonight. I have to, uh, finish it."

Tonight was also when they were leaving for the Mansion, but she had a feeling she shouldn't mention it to him. He still couldn't be trusted, no matter how he made her feel. She decided to play it safe and act disaffected, as a major awkwardness was beginning to settle over them. "Okay. Well, I'm going to go out first. Wait a few minutes, then come out, okay?"

"Okay, Charlie." He still wouldn't look at her, but in his reflection she could see an element of hurt in his eyes, and something else she couldn't quite define.

She stepped outside the bathroom, and closed the door behind her, leaning against it and sighing. _Stupid, stupid!_

No good could ever come of this twisted, impossible relationship, and she knew it. He had some kind of agenda going; that much she was sure about, because the last time he duped her in the role of 'Nate', he'd been charged with the same energy and he was rather impetuous in how he acted (i.e., playing the gentleman in the woods and acting like her overprotective boyfriend at The Grand).

In her peripheral vision she saw Miles standing in the hallway nearby. He motioned with a toss of his head for her to follow him, and once they were in a small office, he shut the door.

"You know they're not going to let him leave, Charlie."

She sighed. "Yeah. I know."

"And you know he's up to something, right? I'm not saying this because I dislike the guy; hell, he's good to have around in a tough spot, and he's obviously crazy about you," she blushed. Miles lowered his head and looked straight into her eyes. "But something stinks about this whole thing. Bass sent him, and he's here for a very specific reason. He's after something."

Charlie gulped. "So, you don't think he's changed? You don't believe he's Resistance?" What she wanted to say was, _you don't think he really loves me_? Being a part of the real world the last few weeks had pretty much squashed her dewy-eyed optimism. She did believe, as she'd promised Aaron, that people were still genuinely good at heart and could be changed, but given her track record with Nate/Jason, she wasn't about to be fooled twice, no matter how much she wanted him.

Miles ran a hand over his two-day stubble, which was peppered with a few black and gray whiskers. "I think he's a messed up, confused guy, Charlie. I was good friends with his dad a few years from the time the blackout began. Tom Neville is a complete sociopath, and I think he warped and messed with Jason's mind so much he has no idea _what_ he believes. I'd kinda hoped back in Noblesville that he'd come over to our side, but it didn't happen, and it still hasn't happened." He leaned toward her. "You understand that, don't you? That he's using you?"

Charlie pursed her mouth, crossed her arms and looked away. She was about to say, _but he said he loved me, _and caught herself before she proved, yet again, how inexperienced she was. Instead, she took a deep breath. "What do you want me to do, Miles?"

Jason waited as Charlie asked, and then emerged from the bathroom. He had no idea where he was going, but he knew what he had to do.

On the way to the main area that had been the main dining space of the restaurant and was now strung with hanging sheets and beds, he heard several voices talking, and he stopped a few feet away from the cracked door.

"We can't just stroll up and expect them to invite us in," Xander was saying, "We need to take out two guards, steal their clothing and go in as militia."

"Oh yeah," Nora said sarcastically. "Like they aren't going to know we aren't part of their squad. We have to go in some other way."

Before he could ask himself what he was even doing, Jason opened the door all the way. "I know another way," he said, looking down at the blueprint scrolled out down the table, held down by a very scary looking incendiary device.

Xander, whose pretty face looked like he'd just got run over by a steam train, exchanged a heated look with Nora. She fingered the revolver snug in her holster.

Jason glanced over at Aaron, who sat quietly on a chair in the corner, unobtrusively fiddling with the late Maggie's dead cell phone as though he wasn't even there. He would remain close to Aaron for the rest of the day, until he had what he came for. Entering and closing the door behind him, Jason pointed out several entrances to the mansion on the blueprint that had been circled with a red crayon. Markers were harder to come by these days as most of them were dried up.

"These here and these here are no good. Monroe has snipers on duty all the time on the rooftops adjoining the wings, and if you so much as approach the doors without having known them for the last ten years, they are ordered to shoot on sight any person who isn't being escorted, under orders, or who are themselves militia."

Xander clasped his raw fingers together, and leaned back. "Then, what would you suggest?" his pleasant voice was mild, but Jason felt the distrust behind it.

_What the hell am I doing? Why am I offering to help them? _Then Jason had a thought, a disturbing thought. "Is Charlie coming with you?"

Nora and Xander looked at each other again. Xander shrewdly assessed Jason, staring dangerously at him. "What if she is?"

"If she is, I don't want her getting killed, that's what." Jason drew a deep breath, and ran his finger along the road on the blueprint, outside of the mansion. "Look, there's a sewage underground passageway that will get you into the facility. It goes directly beneath the kitchens. I don't know where you're planning on putting this thing," he indicated the bomb with a toss of his head, "But the kitchens are in the central portion of the mansion and would hit pretty much the entire place."

What was he doing? He couldn't say if anyone that truly knew him asked him outright; did he actually want his father annihilated? The Monroe Republic head taken down? He thought fleetingly of that week he'd been out with Monroe. He learned a lot, and owed a lot of his free thinking to advice Monroe had given him on seeking his own path, but deep down, in his heart, he knew he was a monster. Jason couldn't decide if he was saying all of this because he wanted to save Charlie, or if he really wanted the Republic overthrown.

His father had ingrained duty, honor, allegiance to orders into him from the time the power went out up until now. He felt a sudden pang of guilt. What was this? He had a mission to complete and he needed to do it quick. He felt the heady emotions of distrust from around the table. Shrugging, Jason smiled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your meeting. I actually came to talk to Aaron."

Aaron's head shot up, and once again Jason saw the deceptive intelligence behind his scared persona. "Me? Why?"

"I just… need to talk to you. About Charlie," he lied with a little toss of his head, trying to look as love-struck as possible.

Aaron stood, and followed him to the doorjamb.

"Shut the door on your way out," Nora snapped.

"C'mon," Jason said quietly. He listened carefully as they walked away to the lowered voices.

"What if he's lying?"

"What if he's not?"

Aaron followed him to the main area, where he found his rucksack, bow and quiver resting against a wall near the doors. Everyone seemed to be in the meeting, which was perfect for him. He knelt down, searching through his rucksack.

"So, what about Charlie?"

"I lied about Charlie," Jason said, keeping his back to Aaron as he silently poured a portion of a small bottle of chloroform onto a white rag. "Hang on, I think I see it. You know that necklace you said belonged to your wife?"

He heard Aaron draw a shaky breath.

"Well, it's the darnedest thing, but the other day, I found one that looked exactly like it. I wanted to show it to you and ask what you think it might mean."

"Um, okay," Aaron said slowly. Keeping the dampened rag concealed by his side, he closed his fist as if he had something in it, and stood up, turning around to face Aaron.

"Here," he said, and the second Aaron looked down, Jason yanked him in a chokehold, and put the rag to his mouth.

"I'm sorry, man, I really am," he whispered as Aaron's eyes rolled back, and his feet collapsed. Looking frantically around to make sure they were alone, Jason lay Aaron down on the floor, and detached the necklace from his neck. He quickly held the pendant up to the light, making sure it was the right one. He put it around his own neck, grabbed his gear, and quietly opened and closed the doors, running for his life into the woods.

A shadow emerged from the side of the restaurant in the darkening twilight, and followed him.

**A/N: Okay, so I lied. This chapter expanded and expanded, so probably two more and the story will be complete. Thanks for reading!**


	11. Chapter 11

Jason ran for a good hour. Without the horse to slow him down on foot, he was already through the forest and over the freeway, almost in the clear to where he had camped the night before. He stopped near the weed-covered off-ramp of the freeway, panting with his hands on his knees before he made his descent.

No one seemed to be following him, so he took a brief moment to rifle through the rucksack for his plastic quart of water, which was shockingly low. They'd given him water to drink at the safe house, but he had been so distracted by Charlie and the fight that he hadn't remembered to top up his own. He drank what little remained. He would need to get some water and treat it with iodine, and soon.

The small lake he'd camped by last night was about another thirty minutes away (give or take), if he ran. He was pretty much winded, though, and he allowed himself to walk for ten minutes and catch his breath, before sporadically walking/jogging/stumbling in the direction of the lake. His throat and lungs were on fire, and he knew he would need to rest and rehydrate before he could run ahead to Noblesville. If he played this right, he could get there before the Resistance, hand the pendant over, and warn Monroe and the militia about the impending attack.

He crossed a fallen log over the small ravine, which was about ten minutes away from the lake. His mind was dizzy, and his thoughts began to blur together, weaving a disjointed tapestry of thoughts and hallucinogenic voices.

His father, tearing into him on the train after he'd thrown Charlie off. _"You saved a criminal, Jason. A criminal! She's nothing; she's just a pretty face, a distraction! She played you like a puppet, and you negated your duty to the militia by aiding and abetting her_. I thought you were smarter than that."

Charlie, looking up at him with woe begotten, heartfelt blue eyes in the abandoned warehouse, as she knelt before him. _"Please. This is my family. If you know anything, you have to help me. I am asking- no. I am BEGGING you."_

His mother, brushing back his hair with her hand one morning when he was eight, shortly after the blackout. _"This is hard, I know. But no matter what Jason, make sure you always do what's right, and follow your heart. It will never lead you down the wrong path."_

With no memory of having gotten there, Jason collapsed to his knees before the edge of the lake, half conscious as he filled up two quarts of lake water into his plastic container and dropped two beads of iodine in it. As if he were having an out of body experience, he saw rather than felt himself go through the motions of pouring a powered drink mix into the container to mask the repugnant, metallic taste once the iodine took effect. He set the container aside to purify for the next half hour. He put his rucksack and weapons down, fell on his back, and threw an arm over his eyes, grimacing.

"I am so fucked," he groaned, exhausted. Darkness enveloped him.

The hooting of an owl brought Jason around much later. He lifted his arm and opened his eyes, and it was pitch black. He shot straight up, looking around.

"No," he croaked, feeling around for his water bottle. "No!" He hadn't meant to fall asleep; he'd never done this before. He shook the bottle of flavored water vigorously, opened the plastic cap, and started chugging it. What the hell was he doing? He scrambled to stand up, but he was still a bit weak. He drained the entire two quarts, and refilled it in the lake, adding more iodine. He stood shakily and relieved himself in the bushes, then ran his hand over his face. This was crazy, he was completely losing the plot. Had he been drugged? They gave him a cold jar of water back at the safe house, but it tasted all right.

Jason felt for the pendant, which was still secure around his neck. He pawed the ground until he had his rucksack, and he withdrew his Militia fire-steel flint set from a black velvet pouch. Within a minute he'd erected a small fire. He had to warm up and get his muscles working first before he could even think about walking, let alone running.

The small fire crackled, and he still felt dazed and out of it. Glancing at the calm lake, he decided to take a quick swim; it might wake him up and help him get rid of the stupor that seemed to have settled on him.

After stripping and diving in, Jason plunged his head under and resurfaced, closing his eyes as he pushed his hair back from his face and droplets of water cascaded down his body. He leaned his head back against the water in defeat, floating and staring at the stars. Something had definitely happened to him back there that didn't involve simple dehydration. He felt knocked for six, and he was always loaded with energy.

He was startled by a break in the silence. "Oh, thanks! I was getting a little cold up in that tree," called a familiar voice from the embankment.

He gulped, lifted up his head, and sure enough, there was Charlie, standing with her hands on her slender hips, illuminated next to his cheerful little campfire.

"You followed me?!" he bellowed.

"Yeah," she called back, a twinge of regret in her voice. "You looked so cute and peaceful lying there, I thought I should help you take a bit of a longer nap. Growing boys need their rest, and all that."

She held up a piece of cloth in the firelight, and he recognized it as the rag he'd used on Aaron earlier.

"You _chloroformed_ me?!" he began swimming toward the shore.

"Yep," she called back cheerfully. "It never ceases to amaze me how often you take me for granted."

"Damnit, Charlie!" he yelled, starting to stand up in the water. He went right back down when he realized he was completely naked. "How long was I out?"

"Long enough," she said, and he was close enough to see the cold anger in her eyes, which looked icy and calculated.

"Throw me my pants," he ordered.

She smirked, unbuckling her belt. "How about I throw you mine?"

He was beyond pissed, and he glanced away, clenching his jaw. "What are you doing, Charlie?"

She unzipped her jeans, and they pooled at her bare feet. His mouth went dry as her shapely, slender legs and shadowed panties came in to view, her legs luminescent as moonbeams. "I'm taking a moonlit swim, what does it look like?" she asked, yanking off her jacket.

He tried, really _tried_ not to stare at her body, but concentration at this juncture was becoming more and more difficult.

He forced himself to look away. "Charlie, just… put your clothes back on. This is crazy, I have to go. I have to leave _right now_."

He heard the rustle of clothing. "Sure, just as soon as I'm nice and naked. Are you sure you don't want to take a swim with me, Jason?"

He kept his eyes averted, and covered them in aggravation. He heard her walk along the bank nearby.

"Oh, I'm sorry, does my having no clothes on make you feel uncomfortable?"

"Not at all," he lied, "It's just that I have to g-" Jason made the mistake of looking up at her, and instantly he knew he was done for.

Every inch of her, every perfectly sinewy, curvy, beautiful and amazingly flawless inch of her, was just a few feet away. It was all he could do not to reach out.

"You know," she said conversationally, walking slowly into the lake, obviously confident in his watching her every move, "The other night ago I had Guido the Icky begging me to take my clothes off, now you're begging me to put them back on. Is there something wrong with that, do you think?"

Jason glided backwards in the water a few feet. "Charlie, don't come any closer."

"Why?" she lowered her voice to a smooth and sultry tone. "Don't you want me, Jason?"

He shook his head at her, disbelievingly. "You're not going to make this easy on me, are you?"

She shook her head in return, coming nearer and nearer. "No, I'm not," she said harshly. "You used me to flush Miles out. Now it's my turn."

Jason gritted his teeth and beseeched the heavens for help. "I'm not going to hurt you, Charlie. I'd never hurt you. But I have-"

"Orders, I know," she finished for him, now just a few feet away and treading water as she kept afloat. "Those doggone orders. . . so, was that _it_?"

"Was what it?" he asked, confused.

"In the bathroom. Wham, bam, thank you, Ma'am, I'm out of here before we get to the good part?"

He looked at her, stunned, and she had the grace to give up the tough girl act. In a quieter, more vulnerable voice, she said, "You were just going to leave without saying goodbye?"

For the first time in fifteen years, Jason felt tears sting behind his eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: This chapter contains mature content. Please read responsibly, any teens who are reading this. Thanks so much for your awesome comments. **

"I have orders," said Jason, his voice oddly choked with emotion.

Charlie sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. "You have orders not to say goodbye to me?"

He remained very still. She could see the outline of his muscular frame, bathed in the moonlight. His sharp, handsome face was illuminated slightly by the firelight offshore. Not wanting him to run off, Charlie stayed where she was.

"This can't work, Charlie. I am sorry," he said stiffly.

"Why can't it work?" she asked, dipping her head back to get her hair wet. She heard his unmistakable, sharp intake of breath.

"You know why. I have an obligation, a duty. I have to follow through on my orders."

Charlie floated some more and decided how best to approach him on this. "Okay, I can understand that," she conceded. "But what about doing the right thing?" They stared at each other, and when he remained stoically silent, she pressed on. "Did you know they have labor camps? A few weeks ago, after everyone fought everyone at The Grand, Miles, Aaron, and I were traveling, and we came upon a squadron on Militia. They had over _thirty_ men, women, and children driving huge hand-carts, being whipped and ordered around like cattle. Like _cattle_, Jason. Honestly, deep in your heart, do you think that's right? Do you think what your dad does is right?" She paused, and asked in a quiet voice, "Do you even _know_ what's right?"

Jason blinked, and she swore she saw a few tears on his cheek. He huffed, suddenly angry. "You know what, Charlie; I don't have to explain myself to you, okay?"

She snorted. "You sound like Miles. Usually when I say something he knows is right or that gets him right in the gut, he says he doesn't have to explain anything to me. Personally, I think it's just a bunch of bull sh-"

"I listened to you talk to Maggie and Aaron," he interrupted, "When I was traveling with you; about how your mom and dad got you and your brother out of the city when the power went down… it wasn't like that for me, okay? We lived in a really shitty neighborhood, and we had nowhere to go. We were scrimping by on ramen noodles and Kool-Aid for weeks after the power went down. My dad did the best he could. He had to save us from our own neighbor one night, and we had to toughen up, suck it up and drive on, or be killed. When I became a soldier, I swore to obey orders, and that's what I do. I follow through, I comply, and I obey-"

She swam forward, and reached out to touch the tattoo over his heart. "But what about what's in here, Jason?" She could feel the staccato of his heartbeat, the warmth of his body despite the chillness of the water. "What does this tell you? What did it tell you on the train?"

For a moment he looked away, irate. "That I was a fool and that you're nothing but a distraction. That I should have obeyed my superior-"

"You mean your father?" she countered.

"Look Charlie," he said heatedly. He was puffed up with anger and steam she knew he needed to let out, but he didn't move or object to her hands on his chest. "We're from two different worlds, you and me. You can come and go and do whatever you want. It was cool seeing that kind of life when I was traveling with you, but the thing is, I'm sworn and obligated to obey my orders and to do what's expected of me. If I'm weak, I'm dead."

She blinked, and backed slightly away.

"Hey," he objected at the loss of her body heat before he meant to. She smiled slightly. His body always betrayed how he felt about her, regardless of what his mouth said.

"Really? So, just what are you, Jason; a _machine_? I hate to break it to you, but all the machines are down and nonfunctional. They _have_ been for fifteen years. What does that tell you? That you have to be a free thinker. I mean, honestly, when are you going to start thinking for yourself?" Disgusted, she scoffed at him. "I came _out_ here hoping to change your mind, to be with me, but I see now that you can't really be with anyone because you can't be true to who you actually are inside. If that's how you want to live your life, then okay. But I'd rather be with someone who acts upon his instincts, not what other people tell him are his instincts, like Xander." She knew it was a low blow, but it might be just what she needed. Not waiting to gauge his reaction, she began swimming back to shore.

Five seconds later, a strong arm wrapped around her midriff and hauled her against a wall of muscle for a chest. Jason held her tight. "I don't have the… _liberty_ of being so free with my feelings as you do," he hissed in her ear. "I won't allow people I love to come to harm. But I meant what I said earlier; I don't want _anyone_ to touch you."

She felt him close behind her, against her shoulders, against her back. His lower half stayed a bit further back, and she could hazard a guess why. "You can't have it both ways, Jason," she murmured, looking straight ahead. "There was this thief in our village, my dad called him duplicitous, because he'd swindle his way into the trust of a family, then rob them. You can't live your life being duplicitous. . . I can't _love_ someone like that. I want a man that stands up for what he believes in."

"I _do_," he argued.

"No you don't," she fired back, aware that he was holding her closer still. "You've been completely brainwashed into believing what they tell you. Do you really think it's right to enslave people? To hurt people? To treat people with less than human dignity?" Charlie was slightly proud of herself. Aaron would probably applaud if he knew she'd actually been paying attention in his history classes.

After a moment, she felt Jason shake his head over hers. "No," he said quietly. "I don't think it's right. But not all people are good, Charlie. We have to have law and order to take care of that."

"But where does enslaving innocent people and children fit in there? What did they ever do?"

Jason let out a heavy sigh, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She knew it was twisted given the fact that they were actually arguing, but she loved being held like this by him.

"Sometimes, civilization and order come at a price. I can't think about the repercussions. I have to do my part, and move on in order to survive."

She gasped. "Is that what your father told you?"

She felt him nod.

"And is that what you believe?"

He didn't reply for a moment, distracted with stroking her arms. "I'm… I'm not sure."

She whipped around, and backed a foot away from him. "Well, you'd better _be _sure. Are you going to go your whole life just doing what _Daddy_ says is right just because he says it?"

Jason covered his face with his hands, groaning. "What the hell else am I supposed to do, Charlie?"

She got angry, and swam right up to his face. "The right thing! You _fight_," she said venomously. "Your dad and his men came to my village and murdered _my dad_, a good, honorable man, in cold blood, for no reason at all. That isn't right. I don't care how long it takes me; I'm going to have justice." She put her hands on either side of his face, and looked up into his conflicted, dark eyes. "I've listened to you; now, you listen to me. I _know_ there's good in you. I've seen it. You saved me from that man that was going to rape me on the plane," she saw red hot anger flare up in his expression at the memory, "You protected me in Chicago and saved me from being killed, you helped Miles rescue me from the man with the dogs, and as much as it hurt, you pushed me off a train rather than let your dad shoot me. So I _know_ first-hand that you do have a heart," she put her hand on his heart, looking intensely into his eyes, "And it beats _just_ like mine."

He touched her face tenderly with his fingertips. "And right now?" he breathed.

"Out of control," she replied, remembering their encounter in the bathroom earlier. She made the first move, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He placed his hands around her waist and lifted her up to kiss him, soft and sensuously. "Jason," she whispered in his ear as he kissed down the side of her neck, "I don't… know if you meant it when you said you loved me, but I really care about you. I want to be with you."

"Oh Charlie, I want to be with you, too," he moaned, stroking her back as he kissed her.

She pulled her face back. "No," she was grateful for the blanket of darkness that hid her blush. "I mean, I want to _be _with you. Tonight. Now."

He touched her cheek and pressed his forehead lightly against hers. "Charlie, it's okay, you don't have to-"

"Yes I do," she insisted. "Before anything else happens. The other night I realized I was about to lose something I've been holding onto for the right moment, a special moment. I want that to be with you, and not any other man," she insisted, using his own jealous words against him. "I _want _you," she whispered, touching his chest with her palms and looking imploringly into his eyes. "Be with me, Jason."

They barely made it back to land. He touched her as no one ever had, with the reverence of a man approaching a scared wild animal. When he realized she wouldn't break, he became vigorous in his efforts, tasting every inch of her skin he could reach, filling her mind and body with a heated flood of desire. He became a man possessed, exploring every avenue, every curve of her that had until now, remained unexplored. When their passion surmounted and he had to have her, he carried her out of the water, cursing as he struggled to unroll his sleeping bag. He picked up a small necklace lying by his pack and put it away, ignoring it, and lay down next to her.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He breathed. They both lie there facing each other, wet, aroused, and so turned on they were almost angry.

She nodded. "Yes, I'm so sure. You're it for me, Jason. You're my protector. I want you to be my lover."

He hesitated for a moment, gently pushing some hair out of her face. "You know it's supposed to hurt the first time, right?"

"Yes," she whispered, "But you threw me off a train. How much pain could it honestly be?" They smirked at each other. A thought occurred to her, and she glanced down at their locked hands. "Jason, have you ever, I mean, how many women have you-"

He put a finger to her mouth, and smiled warmly down at her. "Just you," he whispered.

She drew in a deep breath, not knowing why that meant so much to her, but it did. "Really?"

He nodded, and she smiled widely.

"You're beautiful," he groaned, leaning close to kiss her. His hand began to roam her body, and later, after he slowly entered her barrier and seated himself to the hilt, as he began moving he broke down and growled out, "I _do_ love you, Charlie. My God, I love you so much!"

When she woke several hours later, sore and stiff but nonetheless blissful, feeling as though the world had lifted a great burden off of her shoulders, she realized she was alone in the sleeping bag. Her hand felt around in the darkness for him, and encountered a slip of paper. She sat up, holding the front of the sleeping bag against her breasts, and unfolded the note.

In very masculine, tidy scrawl was written, "Dear Charlie, I am sorry, but I have to finish this. I meant what I said. Find Miles, and I will find you." She looked to the right. Her clothes were folded in a tidy stack. He'd left her a small canteen of water, some berries and a fish on a rock-plate; but his pack, his bow and arrows were missing. He was gone.


	13. Chapter 13

Charlie dressed quickly and had attached Jason's sleeping roll to her pack, when she heard hooves crunching on leaves and twigs nearby. She poured the remaining water over the dying embers of the campfire, and hid behind the trunk of the tree they had camped under, hoping the darkness would keep her concealed.

"Charlie?" a gruff voice called out.

"Miles?" She stepped out and looked into the forest, and Miles was sitting on a dark horse, holding the reins of another one next to him.

"Let's go," he said. She nodded, and mounted the free horse, turning it to follow his.

He stopped for a moment until they were beside one another.

"You know, when I told you to distract and detain him at any cost, I didn't mean you had to- you know," he said with a nod of his head, looking a bit uncomfortable and slightly guilty at talking about this with her.

Charlie blushed, and looked away. "I know, Miles. How long were you watching us?" she asked, recalling the whispers, moans, the sounds of their lovemaking and impassioned cries in the still night air.

"I only just got here twenty minutes ago when he left, Charlie... I didn't see anything," he added, studying her face for a moment. "Do I need to kill 'im?" He asked, as the horses began trotting.

Charlie sighed. "No," she said, "I wanted to… and I'm glad I did."

Miles seemed to accept this, grunting. "Well, if we head straight out and don't stop, we'll certainly cut him off and get to the mansion before anyone else. I saw the way Nipples went. We'll take the high road and get there quicker."

Despite herself, Charlie smiled. "I wish you wouldn't call him that."

"Yeah, well, _I _wish the kid wouldn't wear those tight shirts all the time."

"I happen to like those tight shirts," Charlie smirked. She was still quite a bit upset that he'd left so abruptly after such an amazing night, and she was worried what the cryptic note meant; had he changed to her side, or was he following through on whatever orders he'd been given?

"Okay okay okay, I don't need to _hear_ about it, Charlie, geez," Miles groused, clicking his heels twice on his horse's rump. "Let's go get Danny and Rachel. Come on." Their horses both broke out into a full on gallop, and they headed towards the Mansion.

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Jason wasn't sure when, but at some point in the last few days, he'd gone from saying what he had to Hutch and the members of the Resistance, to it actually becoming true in his mind. Charlie had a way of bringing him out of himself, and he owed her for it. He saw things clearly now, and he knew what he had to do.

Clutching the pendant, he clasped it around his neck and pushed it into his shirt, and he started running towards the train station as Noblesville came into view.

There was only one midnight run to Philadelphia that he knew about, and that was to deliver fresh farm cargo; eggs, livestock, ammunition supplies, freshly sewn clothes, and all the necessities that helped Philly continue to thrive. He barely managed to get on the train just as it was about to take off, explaining to the sergeant on duty that he had orders and needed to get to General Monroe immediately.

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The intimidating, ironically M-shaped two wing mansion stood ominously in the dark, illuminated by torches and scary-looking sentries. Miles and Charlie dismounted their horses and hid their gear beneath a rose bush on the hill. They scanned the perimeter over the bush.

"So; what now?" Charlie whispered. They really did need to think things through more carefully, especially since they were doing this without the Resistance (which Miles said would be the better way).

He stood up. "Now, we walk down there and tell them who we are, and they take us to Bass."

She yanked him back down by the hem of his shirt.

"Are you _crazy_? He'll kill you, Miles!"

Miles shrugged carelessly. "Not if I kill him first. Look, Bass wants me, not you or your family."

She studied him. "Are you sure about that? Why would he keep my mother for _fifteen years_ if he didn't want her?"

Miles searched her eyes and glanced down. "Look… Charlie, if I'm going to die, which I probably am, I want it to be on my terms. Just, there's something I need to tell you. I don't want you to judge your mother, because this all happened a long, long time ago before she'd even met Ben."

Charlie felt icy prickles down her neck and back. "What?" She asked in a small voice. "What happened?"

Miles gulped, and wiped his face with his hand, assessing her and seeming to decide how to best say whatever he was going to say. "Look, I met your mother when she was in college, okay? She was… beautiful, and charismatic, and funny, and smart. I fell in love with her."

Charlie did a double take, stunned. "You… you were in love with my mom?"

Miles sat down in the grass for a moment, his elbows on his knees as he took on a faraway look. "We were together for maybe a month or two, it was amazing, but I wasn't… look, I was a complete douche bag and young and not ready for commitment or responsibility. When she got pregnant, I freaked out."

Charlie gasped. If he was saying what she thought he was saying-

"I joined the marines, and they sent me to the Middle East. Your mom didn't tell me she was pregnant, but I think she knew I would just have bolted anyway. She got in touch with Ben, and when he realized I was a complete waste of space, he picked up the pieces and married your mom."

Charlie felt herself shaking. "Are you- are you saying you're my _dad_?"

Miles picked at a few blades of grass, and looked at her. "Ben was your actual dad, Charlie. He loved you, raised you, and protected you. I'm just the guy that donated the sperm and got you in butt-loads of trouble from the time you walked into the bar."

Wrapping her arms around herself, Charlie shivered. "And, why are you telling me this now?" she asked, upset. So if he was her father and Ben was Danny's father that made them, what- cousins? Half-siblings? She couldn't even process this right now.

Miles sighed. "Because we're about to go in there, and I know Bass will try to use it against me, against you. I wanted you to hear the truth for yourself, from me."

Tears sprang to her eyes. "Why did you wait until now, all this time, to tell me? Couldn't you have told me before?"

His voice went suddenly soft. "Because I know how disappointed you'd be. I'm sorry, Charlie."

She let herself cry, and bitterly wiped her tears.

Miles took a deep breath, standing up and offering her a hand. "Come on; let's go get your family back before this place blows up."

He started to lead her away, but she stopped. "Wait," she said, wiping her face one more time.

Miles looked slightly annoyed. "What?"

Without pausing to think, Charlie flung herself at him and wrapped her arms around his torso, burying her face in his chest. "I don't care about what you've done in the past, if you're my dad, I'm grateful I got even a moment to know you," she sniffed.

She felt something shift in Miles, and he embraced her. "Thank you, Charlie," he said brokenly. "That means more than you know."

They hugged for a minute more, and then made their way down the hill. As they approached the bridge leading to the mansion, Miles instructed her to walk with her hands behind her head, as he was.

"My name is General Miles Matheson!" he shouted. Several militiamen about-faced and raised their rifles, training them on Charlie and Miles. "I'm here to surrender to General Monroe! Take us into custody."

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Jason arrived on foot at the mansion, which seemed oddly subdued and bereft of the usual amount of sentries. He entered the front doors without so much as seeing anyone, and quickly scaled the stairs to the third floor, where Monroe both lived and operated out of. At the entrance door, a militia soldier sat in a wooden chair, holding the side of his face. Nate looked at him and immediately grabbed an arrow from his quiver, threading it in his bow as he entered the grand hallway.

On the floor were three bodies; Mitch, Shane, and Xander. They had each been stabbed with what looked like a sword, and Jason felt his haunches rise. Something had definitely happened here. He stealthed through a few empty corridors, heading to Monroe's office. The door was ajar, but no one was in there. He turned around and silently made his way to Monroe's private chambers.

The door was wide open, and heated voices were arguing. He leaned against the wall next to the door, and listened.

The first voice he heard was unmistakably his father, in the brash, bold confidant timbre he had grown up with. "Yeah, well, it's too bad for you we had a spy in the Resistance. We knew you were coming from a mile away." Jason creased his forehead, confused. How could they know? He hadn't told them.

"But Jason isn't even _here_," Charlie's voice countered.

Jason made an angry face. _Damnit, Charlie!_

He heard his father chuckle. "Who said anything about Jason? I'm talking about Blondie out there."

"Shane?" Miles growled. "You killed one of your own spies?"

He could almost hear his father shrug. "Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, you know that, Miles."

"Oh, yeah, like the time you told me I could go ahead and kill your own son so you could have Danny?"

The venom in Miles' voice shot straight through Jason. Had his father actually done that? Would he? He frowned, taking a deep, quiet breath. Of course he would.

"Well, these are tough times, Miles."

"Go to hell, Tom."

"You first," his father snarled, and he heard the click of a weapon.

"That's enough," he head General Monroe say silkily. He felt a presence nearby the door, and he flattened himself against the wall. "Well, now that we're all here and everyone knows who everyone actually is-"

"Bass!" Rachel Matheson's voice admonished.

"It's okay Mom," she heard Charlie say in a placating tone, "Miles already told me. And it's okay. Really." He heard Mrs. Matheson crying.

General Monroe's cold voice spoke up. "Now that everyone knows everyone, I think we can rid ourselves of a few stragglers, starting with young Goldilocks right here. Tom?"

Jason heard a nearby click of a revolver. "Yes, sir. With pleasure."

"Bass, no!" Rachel shrieked.

Jason whirled out and knocked the gun out of his father's hand just as he was about to shoot Charlie, and pushed him up against a wall in a chokehold. Tom gasped for air, managing to rasp around Jason's strong fingers, "I was wondering when you'd join the party. Let me go."

"Not a chance," Jason breathed. He glanced at the room. Danny, Charlie, and Rachel stood with their arms wrapped around each other, terrified.

"You… are in serious breach… of your orders," Tom gasped.

"I don't give a _shit_ about my orders," Jason snarled. A white-hot anger had taken him over, and all he could think was that his own father, his own flesh and blood had sold him out and was about to murder the girl he loved.

"Jason." He turned his head to the smooth, comforting and ultimately demonic voice of Monroe, who stood with his sword drawn, holding it in front of Charlie's neck. "I'll do it, I'll kill her. Let him loose."

Jason seethed, gritting his teeth, and released his father, who coughed and gasped for air.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Miles move slightly to the left, just an inch or two closer to Monroe. He shot a millisecond of a glance at Jason that pretty much said, _Keep him talking._

"Where's the pendant, Jason?" Monroe sneered.

"I'll give it to you if you let her go," he said, keeping an eye on his dad, who was now on the floor recovering, and thumbing the hilt of the knife he kept sheathed on the back of his belt.

Monroe barked out a laugh. "So it's true, you've actually gone soft on a girl? I have to admit, she is a nice piece of ass like her mom, but you're a fool to throw away a whole career over something so stupid an inconsequential."

Jason drew a breath, trying to look relaxed. "You're right, Sir. It is pretty stupid when you think about it; that I've spent the last ten years training to obey someone who murders innocent people for power. Let her go." He stared straight at Monroe, not daring to look at Charlie, or he'd lose it. He yanked the pendant off of his neck, and held it against the opposite wall. "Let her go," he repeated powerfully, "Or I'll smash it if you don't."

He was suddenly knocked to the side by his father, who started pounding his fist into his face. Jason used his feet and kicked up, dislodging his father and throwing a few punches of his own as they fought on the floor. He heard a skirmish and people yelling, but he was too busy trying to stave off Tom to do anything about it. Tom pushed him out in the corridor, putting up his fists.

"All right, Jason, you want to dance? Let's dance."

Jason stood there, blinking. "You are crazy. You're actually crazy."

"Come on!" his father roared.

Jason knew what he had to do, and he inhaled deeply. "I'm not going to fight you, father."

"Oh, that's just fine with me," Tom said, getting ready to jab him. "I'll just kick your ass."

"I'm going to kill you," he said quietly, un-thumbing the holster behind him and unsheathing his knife.

Tom paused, his hands still raised. "You'd actually do that to me, your own flesh and blood? What's wrong with you, boy?"

Jason gathered up his courage. He had to do this, he knew he had to. "What's wrong is that you're a maniac, and you need to be put down."

Tom seethed in anger. "You listen to me. You listen to me _right now_, Jason. You have to choose. It's me or her. Think carefully. I'm your father. I protected you, I trained you, and I taught you to survive."

"Yeah, well," Jason sighed. He looked sharply up. "She taught me how to love." He aimed and sent the knife flying straight into his father's heart. Tom gasped, and flew back to the floor. Jason stood over him, tears in his eyes. "I am sorry, father. I chose Charlie," he said, walking away to find her.

Whatever happened in Monroe's room had happened quickly. Miles was collapsed to his knees on the floor, panting, exhausted, and bleeding. On the floor before him lay Monroe, with a sword sticking out of his chest. Miles met Jason's stare, and there were tears in his eyes. Jason nodded to him, and Miles nodded back.

He looked around. The Matheson's were nowhere to be seen. "Charlie!" he yelled, panic flooding his veins.

"I'm here," she said weakly from the other side of the desk. He ran around to squat down. She lay propped up against Danny, her mother stroking her face. An angry, red gash tore at her lower left arm. Jason yanked his quiver off, took off his shirt and ripped a large strip of clothing to add pressure to the wound.

"I'll be okay, Jason," Charlie whispered. "We'll be okay."

He met her startlingly blue eyes. "I love you, Charlie. I'm in love with you."

She yanked him forward, touching his cheeks as she smiled, tired, beaten. "I am _so_ in love with _you._"

**THE END**

**A/N: And never was there a tale of more woe, than a gal who realized she'd churned out over 20,000 words in one go. **

**Ha ha ha, thank you for coming on this journey with me. I have no idea if she's actually going to go through with it next Monday or not, this story was a snippet of what I'd **_**like **_**to happen. Thank you very much for all of your comments and insight. I'll be re-editing the chapters shortly. I am about to start a project, so it'll be a while before I can write fan fiction again. Have a Happy Halloween, all. **


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